THE SAVED
by PanicButton
Summary: Follow up from salvation. Slash, violence, language, adult content. Reid/OMC... When you feel betrayed and let down by someone you love, obviously you have to go kill the opposition. Reid stands in the way of someone's happiness.
1. Chapter 1

THE SAVED

**follow up from Salvation.. xoxox**

* * *

><p>Spencer sat on a chair with his back to the large window and his arms crossed tightly over his chest. He was breathing heavily as though he'd just been running up a long flight of stairs. He hadn't been though. He'd been sitting just as he was now for the past half hour looking at the woman in the chair facing him.<p>

His mother.

Spencer was in Vegas again. This time though, apart from his mum, he was alone. His mother was having a _good_ day. Initially Spencer had thought this had been good. The times he'd visited his mother at Bennington and she'd not even recognised him were becoming more and more frequent, but today she seemed very aware of everything and more lucid than Reid would have liked. Spencer had come to see his mother to give her comforting words and to reassure her that everything was going to be all right. As all right as they ever could be at least, but things weren't going the way he'd expected. She had questions to ask.

'Are you still seeing that _man_?' It was the first thing she'd asked him. She didn't want to know if Spencer was OK. She could see he wasn't. There was no point in asking that. 'I was hoping you'd settle down with a nice young lady and start a family.' She went on to say. Spencer didn't answer her. The settling down thing was something he would love, but the nice young lady and family wasn't something Spencer had on his bucket list of things to do before he died. 'He smells funny. I don't like him.' His mother informed him.

Spencer made a small noise at the back of his throat. He was going to respond to that, but stopped himself. He wriggled uncomfortably on the chair and scratched at himself where his fingers could reach.

'And you look sick. Are you sick?' She now asked him directly.

'I'm doing fine mother.' But he didn't sound fine. He sounded a long way from fine.

'You know I might have a problem sometimes remembering things, Spencer, but I can see you're not fine. It's that _man_ isn't it?' She said the word _man_ as though it hurt her to use the word. She could see a faded bruise under Spencer's eye. She could see where his lip was healing from being damaged. She could see the way he was fidgeting and wriggling in his chair. 'He's dirty. If you _have_ to be with a _man_ why cant you find a nice one?'

'Mother…' Spencer breathed out the word. 'Sometimes things just happen.'

'Rubbish.' Mrs Reid placed her hands on the arms of the upholstered chair she was sitting on. 'And if you cant talk to me honestly why do you come to see me? Has he given you permission? Does he know you're here?'

'Mother…' Again a sigh more than a word. 'It's not like that.'

She stood. 'I'm going for a nap. You exhaust me. You wear me out. Sometimes, yes, things just happen, but you can change it. Go find someone nice, Spencer. Someone who isn't going to hit you.'

His hand went to his mouth. He could feel the small healing cut on his lip. 'Oh… he didn't do this.' A lie. Such a lie. A dreadful lie. And his mother knew it. He could tell by the way her eyes firstly twinkled (maybe tears forming) and then the way they narrowed. She turned so that she didn't have to look at her only child. A child she had once had so many hopes for.

'I need to sleep.' She told him again. 'Will you be back tomorrow?' She knew the answer all ready. She didn't need to ask.

'My flight…'

A quick nod from his mother. 'Of course; your flight.' There was barely veiled spite in her voice. 'He only gave you one day to come and see me.' It wasn't a question.

'Work… you know?'

She didn't know. She knew that Spencer had been given one day. She knew that her son would go running back to the stinking abusive man who he seemed to have formed such a bond with. Love? No… she couldn't see how anyone could _love_ such an animal. Diana Reid turned her back on her son and without saying _goodbye_ she walked away.

'Mother?' Spencer stood and took a few cautious steps towards her and then stopped. 'Mother.' He repeated as she walked out of the door. He wanted to explain, but he'd left it too late. He wanted to tell her what was going on, but when he was sitting there looking at his mother the words just dissolved and disappeared. Still with his arms wrapped around his chest and still picking and scratching through his blue and white checked shirt he stepped back and sat down again. 'I came to explain.' He muttered. But it was fine. She couldn't hear him now. He could say what he wanted to the empty room. 'I wanted to say…' But again the words went. He couldn't say them. The walls might hear him and repeat them back to his mother when he wasn't there to explain. 'I'm sorry.' He looked down at his knees and closed his eyes. It would have been so much easier if Spencer's mother had been having a bad day.

He sat alone for maybe up to fifteen minutes just staring at the darkness behind his closed lids. He didn't cry. He was all out of crying. There were no tears left. Slowly he stood. Unwrapped his arms from himself and left the building. He had a flight to catch. Floyd had kindly booked him the flights and even driven him to the airport. Floyd had given him a gentle loving kiss and a not so loving grope _goodbye_ and reminded Spencer not to mess him around. Reminded him that if he came back stinking like a slut that he'd give him something to remember the warning by. He had pulled Spencer in close and asked him to send all his love to his mother… he had licked at Spencer's ear and pushed hard against him and told him that he'd be waiting for the return flight. 'Enjoy your trip.' He'd said. 'Only talk to the staff at Bennington and your mother. Don't book a room, you wont need one. Don't contact old buddies and don't contact your father. I _will_ know if you have. Have fun. Send her my love.' And Floyd had waited and watched Spencer go through into departures and he'd stood and looked at the flight information board and waited until he was sure it had taken off OK and not crashed. He then waited for information on whether the flight had landed safely. It was a tense time for Floyd. He'd paced and chewed on his fingernails and he'd been monitored by security staff because the man looked dirty and shifty and dangerous, but he left without causing a problem and gotten back on his bike which had been parked illegally and he'd gone back to his empty apartment.

o-o-o

Floyd was under the impression that he'd done a _nice_ thing by allowing Spencer a day or two to be with his mother. Fine… it wasn't a full day. He'd made damned sure of that. He knew Spencer couldn't and wouldn't spend a whole day talking to his crazy arsed mother. He knew he'd come away from the visit feeling low. What do people do when feeling low? They go find some handy cock and get some pleasure. That's what they do! They're all the same. People who are like Spencer are all the same anyway. There was no way Floyd was going to give Spencer the time to get laid by some Vegas whore. Even though warnings of such an action had been clear… (Floyd had split his knuckle on Spencer's face when he'd explained it.)… there was always a slight risk. Spencer didn't always do as he was told. Spencer sometimes became very delusional and thought he had a mind of his own. Which he didn't have. At least he'd best not have! He'd made sure that there was only five hours between the flights. That was plenty of time to get from the airport, see his mother, have a quick self pitying cry and get back to the airport again. It _was_ a nice thing he'd done! He had shown Spencer that he had trust in him to go away for all that time and not misbehave. It also gave Floyd time to get home, change his shirt, put on a clean waistcoat and go find a whore for a cheap bit of release down a back street. He actually ended up having more fun than he'd expected and managed to get a three way. Getting relief from two people at the same time was the ultimate pleasure. When he got back to the apartment later that evening he was tired but very content. There was little or no blood behind fingernails. No one was going to be hammering on his door asking if he'd killed some slag and dumped the ripped up body in a bin, because he'd left both parties alive and almost well. A couple of elbows in faces and teeth in flesh was really all that had happened which was maybe unexpected from the two youngsters he'd paid.

He checked flights.

He paced the room.

He suspected Spencer of committing every sin against him that he could in the time he'd been given. Floyd made a telephone call to Bennington. Yes Dr Reid had been there and had just left. Yes he said he had a flight to catch. _It was a shame he couldn't have stayed for longer._ Floyd let the staff at Bennington know what a slut Spencer was and how he couldn't be trusted. He told them what he was going to do to Spencer when he got home. They put the telephone down on him. Floyd ripped the cord out of the wall and hurled the phone across the room. He hated phones. Hated them! How could he threaten someone if they were hundreds of miles away? How _dare_ they put the phone down on him? Nothing he could do about that now, but when Spencer got home he was going to have to punish him for that.

'Fucking fag bastard.' Flanders muttered. 'No one puts the fucking phone down on me.'

There was something else though.

Something which was beginning to make Floyd feel uncomfortable. He had a nagging, nasty, scratchy feeling that he was being watched or followed. That of course was the most insanely ridiculous thing imaginable. If he was being followed he'd be able to see who it was by. It would be so damned obvious that there would virtually be a red arrow pointing down from the clouds showing him the fool, but he'd looked and seen nothing. Even locked away in the apartment he had a niggling feeling that he was being monitored.

'Cameras? This place is bugged?'

That was why he spent the next hour checking everything and everywhere he could think of. He found nothing. He did though, carefully put the phone back together and plug it back in. He did make another phone call. The phone rang three times before it was answered.

'Reid?'

'Hotchner.' Flanders replied. 'Spence is in Vegas. Family trip.'

Silence. Just breathing.

'I called you.' Floyd had a puzzled look on his face. Why was Hotchner not talking to him? 'Are you busy?'

'Too busy to talk to you.' Came the reply. 'What do you want? Make it quick.'

Floyd held the phone away from his ear and shook it in annoyance. 'Are you monitoring me? Is this place bugged? Am I being followed?'

A sigh at the other end of the phone. 'Why would we waste resources doing that? What you do and where you go is usually made obvious by the blood trail you leave behind. If there's no trail, no reports of murder, rape… then all is well.'

'So you're monitoring me?' Again a short space of silence. Hotchner was thinking (this might take some time). 'Have I got time to take a shit whilst you decide whether the truth is needed?' Floyd asked.

'As far as I am aware you're not being monitored. Is that all? I'm busy.'

A thought came to Floyd. A rush of white hot anger. He could feel that heat rising up his neck and onto his face. His knuckles went white as he held the phone. 'Is Spencer there? Are you fucking my Spence?'

The phone went dead. Now Hotchner had hung up on him too and again he wanted to throw the phone across the room and stamp on it until it was a million bits of useless plastic, but he held his temper, at least for now and rang Hotchner again. 'And before you say a fucking thing, it was just a sodding question.' He gave Hotch no time to speak. 'Someone is following me.' He added. 'Is Spencer there?' He asked again.

'Spencer isn't here. You just said he was in Vegas. He's not here. I've already told you that as far as I am aware no one is following you.'

'Well someone… Hotchner?'

A sigh. 'I'm busy.'

'Have you seen Sam?'

'Sam… No. You've misplaced him again?'

'I broke his clocks.' Floyd explained.

'Flanders.' A stern voice. 'I don't have time to discuss this with you now. I am _busy_. Maybe you should replace Sam's clocks for him if he's upset with you over that. It's all I can suggest. Have a nice day.' Again the phone line was cut.

'Replace his clocks.' Floyd held the phone away from his ear and raised an eyebrow at it. '_Replace_ his clocks? Are you fucking stupid?' He spoke to the empty room.

o-o-o

Airport parking lot. Not the place to have a murderous outburst. It was a bike!

A sodding bike for the love of the gods! Not some monstrous truck. Floyd strongly resented the parking fees but the man standing at his shoulder telling him… _telling him_! … that he had to pay and that he couldn't just park where he wanted, seemed ready for a punch up. Floyd felt like a punch up too, but thought that today he would disappoint the bastard.

'I'm not going to kill you.' Floyd let him know. 'Back the fuck off.'

'I think I will hang around until I've seen you put the money in the machine.'

Short term parking. 'Pay and fucking display.' Floyd muttered. 'Sounds like some sexual act to me.'

'Just pay the machine or I'll ticket you and get you towed.'

He stuffed the money into the machine and ripped the ticket out. 'Happy now? Happy? Are you fucking happy that you've ruined my fucking day?'

'Your day is easily ruined if getting a ticket to park can spoil it.' The man walked away unaware that he had just used up nine of his ten lives. Floyd spat onto the ground in front of him, turned and looked at the middle aged woman standing behind him with a fist full of coins.

'Fuck off.' He growled at her. And she did. Quickly. Floyd watched her walk quickly to another machine. He wanted to urinate on the machine and bleed all over it. He wanted to pass some nasty disease onto someone, but it would have to wait. He had a ticket which he slapped on the bike and he walked away before he got the urge… just _after_ he got the urge to key some cars.

People shouldn't have such big vehicles if they couldn't afford to pay to get a few scratches fixed.

People would die a slow death if they decided his bike was far game.

A very slow death.

Floyd stood and looked at the bike and then looked at the man in the security uniform who was watching him. But that wasn't what the problem was. There was that itching feeling that he was being observed again. Not the man standing there looking at him. No, not him… that man didn't even deserve to be noticed. It was something else. Something _sly_, something dim… dim in the way that it maybe didn't really exist. Something which was crawling around in his head letting him know he was being watched. Watched from the inside?

Flanders rubbed at his eyes with fingertips and then massaged his temples with his knuckles. 'I'm being watched from the inside?' He questioned his thought. 'Show yourself you son of a bitch.' Floyd saw the man in the uniform take a quick step forwards. _Did I say that aloud?_ 'Am I talking to you?' He shouted over the lot. The man though shook his head quickly and as Floyd turned and walked towards the stairs… _Cant fool me into using a fucking elevator_, the man pulled out his walkie-talkie and let someone know that there was a man acting very suspiciously in the short term parking lot and he was heading for arrivals.

This was the reason why when Spencer arrived back and walked through the gate with his pack over his back, that Floyd wasn't there to greet him with open arms. There was though a man in a security uniform and a gun at his side who asked Spencer to come with him, please.

'What? What have I done?' His face blanched and that sick panicky feeling came over him.

'Hopefully nothing. If you can come with me please.' Not a question. Certainly not.

'My bag was checked.' Spencer let the man know, but he still followed. No point in arguing the point. Get it over with quickly. He was escorted back out of arrivals and through _staff only_ doors and down corridors and then finally into an interview room. His bag was taken from him and he was asked to sit down. There was one chair in the room. A chair bolted to the floor. There was nothing else though. No table. No windows… nothing but four men and Spencer… his bag was taken away. 'I don't understand.' Spencer said. 'I've just flown in from Vegas.'

'Were you expecting someone to meet you on arrival?'

Spencer swallowed. He heard that dry click of panic in his throat. 'Uh, yes.'

'A name Dr Reid?'

'Flanders. Floyd Flanders.'

'You're a federal agent.'

'Well yes and thus I don't think you can keep me here.' Spencer didn't have his ID with him. How did they know he was a FED?

'We will keep you for as long as we want to keep you here. Are you running drugs for Mr Flanders?'

Spencer wanted to stand up and pace, but instead he wrapped his arms around himself and took a deep breath. 'I am a federal agent.' Of course, Floyd had told them.

'You didn't answer my question.'

'Of course I'm not running drugs! You can check my bag! You can check… you can…' His voice faded out as the images of exactly what they _would_ check played over his mind. 'I'm not running drugs. Can you please contact my unit chief?'

'Well let's just see if your story tallies with that of Mr Flanders' first. Why were you in Vegas?'

The man talking to him, a slightly sweaty man with a white shirt which was too tight across his stomach, had produced Spencer's fight ticket stubs and information. 'I was visiting my mother.'

'For a few hours? Five… five hours. That seems to be a very short stay considering the length of the flight. Who else did you meet up with during your trip?'

Again that dry click at the back of Spencer's throat when he swallowed. 'I don't get… I had to… I was.' He stopped, gathered his thoughts and started again. 'I don't like being away from my boyfriend for too long.' He stated. 'I just wanted to quickly see if my mother was OK and get back again. There was no point in staying longer. I wanted to get home again.' Pick, pick, scratch, scratch with his fingernails.

'You look worried Dr Reid.'

'I just don't know why I am here.'

'Mr Flanders caused some concern. He was talking to himself. Acting in a suspicious manner.'

Spencer took a deep breath. 'He is always like that. He's got a… he's got a _few_ problems.'

'He told us that the reason you were only staying in Vegas for five hours was because he couldn't trust you to be there longer. He told us that he sent you away for a short while to give him self space from you. He said that your mother is… What was it he said?'

'_A fucking bonkers old cunt_.' One of the other men said.

Reid scratched and picked some more and said nothing.

'I think we'll have a little strip search. If you don't mind removing your shoes to start with.'

o-o-o

Whilst Spencer was being searched with a rubber glove and a deep frown on his face, Flanders was pacing the small room he'd been taken to. For now all they had him on was minor vandalism. They had footage from the security cameras in the parking lot of what appeared to be him keying four cars. 'Three.' Floyd corrected them. 'Cant even fucking count and if some bitch gets her wagon buggered by some fuck then she needs to pull her brains out of her twat and sort it herself. I'm not paying fuck all for damage done by someone else.'

They questioned him about drugs. They demanded a urine sample. They regretted asking, but they _did_ get a sample. Maybe not in the way they would have liked but that didn't matter now. The drugs test came back positive for barbiturates, morphine, cocaine, marijuana and a few unknown substances. They looked at the results and wondered if the lab had got something wrong. They ran the tests again. How he could have had all of that in his system and still be standing, they didn't know. He also had a high level of alcohol. Much too high. Four times the legal driving limit. But they had no complete proof that he'd not had a sneak drink somewhere between parking up the bike and pissing over officer Gentry.

Now they wanted to know where he got his drugs from. They wanted to know names of dealers. They wanted to know who he was waiting for at the airport.

'Your mule?'

'My monkey.' He corrected them. They looked confused. 'Monkey? You know? As in an addiction? I need a bit of that boy every day or I lose my fucking mind. Drugs I can do without, I can survive and not have them. But my boy? Nope. Got to have a regular dose of his pretty arse every day.'

'Is that who you're waiting for?' They wanted to know now.

'No. You have me shut in a room and are asking me stupid questions, that's what I'm doing. When I was out in arrivals, then yeah, I was waiting for my fuck buddy to come through the gate.'

'You have a nasty mouth.' A voice said from behind him.

Flanders smirked. 'That's not what the sluts tell me.'

He received a sharp slap around the head. Normally this would have sent Floyd into a blood fest rage. He told them so. 'Hit me again and I'll kill every last motherfucking one of you.' He paused. 'Then eat the evidence.'

They didn't like this Flanders person. But apart from the high level of narcotics in his urine and his nasty way when talking to people there was nothing they could hold him on. They _did_ decide to wait until the person he was waiting for arrived though. Maybe the _mule_ would give them information they wanted. A bust would be great. It had been a boring day, but staying in the same room as this foul minded, foul mouthed and even nastier smelling man wasn't a happy thought.

o-o-o

They had contacted Hotchner and when he arrived Spencer was hunkered down in the corner of the room with his arms wrapped around his head. There was a neat pile of clothes folded up on the chair, with a pair of shoes sat on top of them. Hotchner's stomach hitched as he looked at the mess in the corner. Reid was rocking slowly back and forth. Four men were standing there looking at their victim.

'What the hell?' Hotch walked quickly to Spencer. He was removing his jacket as he walked and as he crouched down next to Reid he slipped the jacket over Spencer's shoulders.

'We had to check him. We thought he was carrying.' Airport security told him.

At least they'd thought to return Spencer's boxers' to him. At least he wasn't totally humiliated in front of the unit chief. 'I'll sort this out.' Hotch said gently.

But Spencer slowly pulled the jacket off his shoulders. 'It's not that I'm not grateful.' He explained in a shaky voice, but with what they've just done to me, I don't think Floyd will appreciate the smell. Can you find him for me? They have him here somewhere. They thought I was running drugs. They…'

'No problem.' Hotch stood, picked up his jacket and turned to the men in the room. 'Give him his clothes back and get Flanders. I assume you have no reason to hold my agent here any longer?'

A few head shakes. A few muttered words. A few maybe scared expressions. 'We let Flanders go. We escorted him out of the building and called him a cab. He was over the legal limit in about every way possible.'

o-o-o

He stood with a snarl on his upper lip.

He stood in the shadows and watched.

He didn't let Floyd know that he was there watching everything he did.

He wanted to go over to him and beg forgiveness. He wanted to plead with him and promise that he'd never do anything like that again. He wanted Floyd to see him and want him and need him desperately, but there was Spencer. Spencer was in the way _again_. Always in the way of his happiness.

Sam had spent many a long hour in discussion with those who had control. Those who laughed at him when he turned up gasping for breath and clutching his broken clocks. Oh how they had laughed. Sam would have shouted and ranted and raged at them in return for their mocking laughter, but he couldn't. He dropped the smashed clocks onto the floor, leaned forward with his hands pressed on his thighs and howled in pain as he felt the gas which had been released curl around his lungs and tear up into his brain. It felt to Sam as though his insides were boiling. He could feel the drip, drip, drip, of snot coming from his nose. He could feel sticky tears running down his face and something popping and trickling out of his ears.

And they laughed even more.

Sam had made some pretty large promises to them. _He was dying and in pain_! People say and do things which later they might regret when they feel like one more second and they will burst open and splatter their insides over those mocking, laughing, blackskinned faces. Sam made a lot of promises and he didn't get many back in return. Yes he was let go. Yes they stopped _most_ of the pain, but they wouldn't get rid of Spencer and they wouldn't give Floyd back and they wouldn't give him his freedom.

They would give him a little job to do though.

Sam was easy to use.

Sam was stupid when it came to revenge.

Sam was given the colt python and five boxes of rounds.

Sam was given a pat on the shoulder and told…

'You want rid of Spencer Reid, then go forth and get rid of him…'

BUT

'To make it fair… because just putting a bullet in the fool's brain is much too easy… to make it fair… you have to get Flanders to do it for you.' A pat on the head with a clawed hand. 'Might even give you that little smudge of a soul you're so desperate for.'

Of course they lied.

BUT

Desperate times and all?

Sam knew that anyone in the same position would do the same thing. His only problem was how to contact Floyd and not have Floyd kill him before he's had a chance to talk to him. Well maybe not his _only_ problem, but that was certainly one of them.

And there was Floyd now. He'd parked his bike in the underground parking and was standing there, keys in hand, looking around. The gun was in a shoulder holster and covered by the baggy hip length jacket Sam was wearing. The gun was loaded. He could have pulled it there and shot a big hole right through Floyd's head, but he didn't. That wasn't why he was here. He saw Floyd look directly into the shadows he was pressed into and then look away again.

'I know you're there.' Floyd spoke. 'Come out and show yourself or piss off and stop following me. If there is something you want from me, speak now. I don't have all day and my mood is degenerating quickly, so this had better be good.' He wasn't talking directly in Sam's direction but it was to Sam he was speaking.

'You killed me.' Sam spoke in a voice not much more than a whisper, but it was loud enough for Floyd to hear. 'First you let Spencer smash my face in and then _you_ kill me.'

Floyd's eyes went immediately to the shadow the voice was coming from.

'Sam… you shot Spencer. You shot me. You…'

'You left me there! You said I was forgiven. You asked me to fix the clocks and then you abandoned me. I died! I had to breathe in that dreadful poison gas. I was alone! I died there in that fucking place with the lights flashing and the gas boiling my brain and melting my lungs.'

Floyd turned from the voice and began to walk to the door which led to the stairwell. 'Fuck with me and I'll fuck with you right back, Sam. What the hell did you expect? There's no _happy ever after_… there's just shit piled upon shit and then when you crawl out of the top of the fucking midden you realise that you've just been dumped on again. It's life. Get the fuck used to it.' He pulled the door open and turned now to look at where Sam was standing just in sight. 'Shit Sam… what do you want me to say? You want me to tell you that it's OK to kill Spencer? You need anything?' Floyd put a hand out to Sam. 'I've got stuff if you need something.'

Sam took another step forwards. 'What sort of stuff?' He licked his lips. 'I don't have money.'

'I don't want money. Your arse will do me fine. Now you want to feel something nice prick that lovely little arm of yours or are you going to stand there mooching until that shit falls again. I've not got all day.'

'How do I know I can trust you?' Another step forward.

'Because you have no choice. You don't look well.'

'I'm NOT fucking WELL!' Sam shouted and his voice echoed back. 'I'm in constant pain!' His voice cracked as tears once more began to fall. 'I loved you so much Floyd. I loved you. And you threw me away like trash.' He stepped into touching range.

'You are trash. That's a girls jacket you have on, vinyl knee length shorts and red hooking boots. You are trash… you look like a cheap transvestite. Sam?'

'What?' A sulk. Sam was looking at his platformed red shiny boots.

'You look like you've got a pair of tits.'

'And?'

Floyd raised an eyebrow. 'Please tell me you have a dick and balls.'

'Oh I have every damned thing you could possibly fucking want! That anyone could want. Those bastards screwed me.'

'Ah.' Floyd quickly turned from Sam and looked at the dark stairwell. He had a barely concealed grin on his face.

'Ah… Ah? Is that all you can say? I'm a fucking hermaphrodite and all you can say is _Ah_?'

'I've got heroin.' Floyd told Sam as he began to walk up the stairs.

'Great. And I've got a pussy.' Sam said from next to him as he walked up the stairs with Floyd. 'You want to play with it?'

'No.'


	2. Chapter 2

2

Sam was hiding more under his jacket than Floyd thought. The gun in the holster looked stupidly big for Sam to be carrying, but Floyd knew that Sam was perfectly able and willing to use it if pressed to that point. The breasts, though, Floyd now saw were probably more padding than actual glands which he had pressing against the thin fabric of the small Tshirt Sam had on. He still looked perfectly ridiculous. Conversations on Sam's strange attire were going to have to wait though. Spencer would be home again soon. They said that they'd get someone to deliver him back once all paperwork had been sorted. Floyd could have argued but by that point he was bored with the whole fiasco and was happy to go home. He had gotten the cab to drop him off just out of sight, given a nice tip and then walked to his bike and come home again. A hand touched Floyd's arm and he looked down at Sam's small pale hand. He'd painted his fingernails bright blue and each had a small star glued onto it.

'What the fuck is going on? Why the gun? Why have you been following me? What the hell have you done to your nails and how can you walk in those stupid boots?' There, he'd said it all.

'Firstly they're not stupid boots. People like them. I've been following you because I didn't know if you were going to jump me and wring my neck if I just came out and talked to you. You obviously didn't want me anymore. You left me to die. You murdered me. You abandoned me. You took Reid and left me… after what he'd done to me. After all of that crap and I'd done nothing wrong, but you were intent on leaving me out again weren't you? I've got the gun to protect myself. I will use it too. And you know I will.'

Floyd shook his head. 'Take it off. You know I don't like guns.'

'Well you see, I don't trust you. If I take this off you'll batter my brains out and put me in a mincer and I'll be Spencer's dinner. Not going to risk that, sorry about that. And sorry about saying sorry, but I'm not going to not say it just cos it winds you up. You said you had stuff for me.'

Floyd put the coffee on and got out three mugs. He turned to look at Sam standing looking like a common slag and shook his head again. 'You really have cunny?'

'Will you love me any less if I did?'

'HA!' Floyd turned back to the coffee. 'Trick question. Can I love you any less? No. I don't think I can, Sam. You messed up and that's the end of it. I have no care what sly little plan you…' He stopped talking and turned back to Sam. 'What exactly have you done? What insane request did you make to get yourself back here in one piece, with cunny and a colt?'

'You don't love me?' Sam's eyes were narrowed and hate filled.

'You blasted a hole through me and Spence. You killed us Sam. You think that you can just walk back in and have things your way? You really honestly think that I'll ever forgive you for what you did? You lost some very important marbles when you went back to hell. I suggest that you do your little jacket up and stop flashing your tits at me and get the hell out of here. Or you can remove that weapon and I'll give you something nice to take away the pain you say you have. Though I'm doubting that the pain is really all that bad.'

Sam wiped the back of his hand under his nose. Stress was again making his nose run and his eyes itch. 'I thought that you loved me. I thought that you would do anything for me. I thought… I thought…'

'Nope.'

'But you created me for you!' Sam wailed.

'What you need to remember, Sammy boy… Sammy girl? Whatever the hell you are now, is that I don't love anything but myself. I have desires and needs and wants, but I don't love. You are disposable trash. Swat you like an annoying fly and you just come right back to me again. Each time slightly different, older, sicker, taller, more…' Floyd paused and handed a mug of coffee to Sam. '… more broken. I guess I just don't want you anymore.'

'But you love me?' Sam asked again.

'Did you listen to me?'

'I did but I don't believe you. I don't believe that you don't love things. That's just you trying to defend against losing something. That's your wall you've put up. That's your denial. You do love.'

Floyd shrugged. 'Maybe, but I don't love or want you. As a parting gift I will give you what you want to get off your face, but that's all it will be. A parting gift. Once you have it, you'll leave and you'll not return. You wont cause any friction between Spencer and I.' As he spoke Sam started to remove the holster. He placed the weapon on the kitchen counter and shrugged slightly. Floyd nodded at Sam and pulled open a drawer. He pulled out five phials and a clutch of needles and placed them on the counter next to the gun. 'Good. Now take it and get the hell out of here. The gun stays though.'

Sam shrugged his jacket on again and stuffed the things into his pocket. 'This shit is going to kill me isn't it?'

Floyd let out a soft sigh. 'What do you think?'

A nod. 'I think you're going to kill me with it.'

Another soft sigh. 'Then why take it?'

'Because there's always the risk that you're not quite the bastard you're making out to be and you actually like me?'

'That's a big risk.'

'Is it worth taking though? The risk not the drug.'

'No… not it's not.' Floyd moved towards Sam and grabbed him by the upper arms. He looked closely into his eyes. 'Do you really have cunny?'

'That's something you're never going to find out.'

'Just curious. How does everything fit?'

'Comfortably thank you. And it's fucking awesome getting laid by someone who knows what they're doing. I get like triple orgasms. It's unbelievable. I got some bloke doing with his hands something I never thought possible. You'd not be able to do it. You don't know how to handle cunny. You'd not have a fucking clue.'

'You could teach me?' Floyd looked curious about this.

'Teach you!' Sam spat back in Floyd's face. 'Teach the god of fuck how to handle a woman? You're fucking hysterical! You should be doing stand up comedy at some sleazy back street place with sticky carpets and bar tenders with orange fake tan. You want me then you're going to have to pay like everyone else does and this poison you've given me don't count.'

'How much?' Floyd let go of Sam's arms and started to undo his belt. Floyd had one thing on his mind. He had to have Sam. He had to have Sam now… He had to have him in every way possible… and he wanted, no, needed… he needed to hear Sam scream. He wanted to taste the little bastard's blood. He wanted… 'How much!'

'I'm not for sale. At least not to you and for your information an experienced whore like me with all these extras can make a fucking fortune. No pun intended, but we're very rare.'

'How much?'

'I'll let you do me if you can give me some shit I'm not going to die of.' His fingers were gripping the drugs he had stuffed into his pocket. Even knowing that Floyd had told him it would kill him wouldn't stop Sam from taking the stuff… or at least selling it on. 'Actually forget it. I'm going.' He reached out to take the gun. 'And as we don't seem to have come to an understanding I'll take this back too.' The gun and holster slid into his copious pocket. 'I thought you loved me.' Floyd shook his head. There was an odd far away look on Floyd's face. Once which Sam thought meant that Floyd was going to kill something pretty soon. Or fuck something and neither were things Sam was interested in right now.

'You cant take that.' Sudden life seemed to come back to him. 'You cant take that Sammy. Take the shit and get out of my apartment and out of my life. If I cant fuck you…' a pause. 'It's not that I cant, you understand that don't you? It's not because you're refusing me, it's because you do absolutely nothing for me. Spencer has everything I need. Those tits? That cunny? I don't want it. It revolts me. Makes me feel like puking.' But maybe just once? Just try it? It was only Sam after all and Sam was disposable. If it didn't work… if it really didn't work out the way he would like then Sam could just be gotten rid of. Curiosity was getting the better of Floyd. Curiosity was over weighing revulsion.

'So you want me to take stuff that'll kill me?' The gun went back onto the work surface.

'I want you to go out having one last wonderful ride. Courtesy of me. Go somewhere dark, somewhere abandoned… an old building ready to be demolished… take your shit. Die amongst the crap and old condoms. It's all you're worth Sammy.' Floyd walked to the door and opened it for him. 'Get the hell out. I never want to see your pathetic face again. Fuck off.' Sam took a step towards the door, turned to look at Floyd and licked his lips. 'Oh for the love of fuck!' Floyd leaned in and gave Sam a quick kiss goodbye. 'You need a lift.' Not really a question.

'Uh hu.'

'Quickly then. Spencer will be back soon and I don't want you two getting into a fight.'

o-o-o

How everything had turned so quickly, Sam didn't know. What he _did_ know was that he'd intended to use the gun to threaten Floyd and get him to mash Spencer for him, or to make Floyd feel terrible guilt, but all that seemed to have happened was that Sam for some reason left the gun behind and followed Floyd back down to the bike with no protest – knowing that the bastard was going to splatter him into being a puddle of nothing and Sam accepting it. Sam had given Floyd an address of where he was staying and so that's where they were heading.

It was about five minutes after they left that Spencer walked out of the elevator and down towards the apartment. He knew something was wrong as soon as the elevator doors opened. There was a smell. It was Floyd's sometimes overpowering smell, but something else mixed in with it. The door to the apartment was the last door on the left. It was wide open. Spencer just stood for a while a few paces back from the door and listened. There was nothing but silence and somewhere a long way off a dog barking. He walked to the doorway and looked in. The door hadn't been forced. There was no immediate sign that anything had happened which shouldn't have. 'Floyd?' He took a step in. 'Are you here?' Floyd wouldn't go out and leave the door open. Even Floyd wasn't that stupid. Another step in. The kitchen door was open and so he walked to there and had a look. Three mugs stood on the counter next to the coffee machine, but that wasn't what got Spencer's attention. It was the holstered gun sitting there and the open drawer which did. 'What the hell?' Another step in. Two of the coffee mugs had been filled. He placed a finger on the side of a mug and felt the warmth. 'Floyd!' A quick glance at the gun and now he was out of the kitchen and walking to the bedroom door. That door was shut. He didn't wait, but pushed it quickly open expecting to catch Floyd doing something unthinkable in his bed, but the bed was made up and the room was almost tidy. Just a dirty shirt laying on the floor next to the washing hamper. Next place he looked was in the bathroom. Spotless and smelling strongly of cleaning fluids. A rich lemony smell. Was he covering something up? Spencer couldn't tell. And an overly clean bathroom meant nothing. A quick look in the lounge and even in the large hallway closet didn't reveal Floyd. He returned to the main door and closed it gently and then went back to the kitchen. Again he looked at the gun but didn't pick it up. He did look in the open drawer though. Little squares of tin foil had been placed there. A couple of discoloured spoon. A glass pipe. A few small packs of white powder. A clear plastic zip-locked bag with what looked to be dried mushrooms. 'Nice.' Spencer sighed and slowly closed the drawer. 'Floyd, we are going to have words.' But his voice sounded defeated and sad. He knew that Floyd liked to take his special mixes, but he'd never seen this sort of thing before. 'I'm going to have to assume that the thing belong to someone else. A friend.' Spencer snorted a laugh. 'A friend. He doesn't have friends.' He looked again at the three mugs. Someone else had been here. Someone had paid a visit with a gun and had left again. Spencer wanted a shower but didn't want to annoy Floyd by messing up all the cleaning he'd done. He wanted to talk to him about what had happened at the airport. Hotch just didn't seem to be the right person to talk to about it. Floyd maybe would have been more understanding. Maybe.

Spencer selected a book from the many on the shelf. He'd read them all before but that didn't matter. He wasn't going to be actually reading it anyway. He just needed the comfort of a book on his lap. He would also have liked a coffee, but going back and seeing the gun and knowing what had been put in the drawer out there didn't make Spencer feel too inclined to want to go back out there. He settled with a small drink of whiskey with some added soda. Not his first choice in beverages, but everything else was in the damned kitchen! And then Spencer sat and waited. He pushed a hand up each sleeve of his shirt and pinched and dug fingernails into the soft flesh of his inner arms. Why couldn't life be uncomplicated for once? Why had his mother had to kick off the way she had? Why did Floyd have to make a scene at the airport? Why did they have to put hands where they'd put them? Why couldn't he have come home to the smell of baking and not to what he'd seen? Why couldn't Floyd just behave for a few hours and not pull the peace and quiet apart with his odd urges and rages? And why did he have to have a constant gnawing headache which made him feel like he was going to lose his mind? That was something else he would like to talk to Floyd about. He _had_ considered mentioning it to Hotch and then decided that Floyd would have been pissed off if he had. Floyd would have shouted and raged and asked why he hadn't been the one he'd confided in. Not worth it. Nothing was worth it. Best to keep things internalised and pretend it's not there biting at his brain and eating at his sanity.

Just over two hours later the door banged open and closed again with just as much (anger?) feeling. 'Babes?' It was Floyd home again. Spencer pulled his hands out from where he'd been digging at his arms and picked the book up, opening it at random place.

'Hey.' He replied. 'Everything OK?' Ah stupid, very stupid. Of course everything wasn't OK.

'Everything is great.' Unexpected reply.

Spencer stood and placed the book on the coffee table and went to greet Floyd who was walking into the kitchen. 'I was just wondering because…'

Floyd turned to face Spencer. There was absolutely no expression on his face. He didn't look happy or annoyed or have any noticeable emotion there. 'Because?'

The gun.

The drugs.

The strange smell.

The coffee.

'You left the door open.' He said.

Floyd grunted something unintelligible back in reply and then said. 'Well you've nothing worth nicking have you?'

'I… well… no.' Agree rather than argue. 'But the… gun.'

A quick frown crossed Floyd's face. 'You carry a fucking gun all day at work.'

'Yes, but that's not mine.'

'Indeed it's not. Coffee?'

'Who was here?' Spencer now asked. 'Yes, yes a coffee.'

'Here? Here in the apartment?'

Where else! Where the hell else? 'It's not your weapon.' He watched as Floyd ran a finger over the edge of the kitchen drawer and then pour out fresh coffee. 'Who was here and whose gun is that?'

A mug of coffee was thrust into Spencer's hands. 'Who pays the rent? No, don't bother answering because we both know it's not you and if I am the one paying for this rabbit hutch of a place then I don't need your fucking permission to have someone visit. Now tell me I'm wrong.'

The coffee splashed out of the mug over Spencer's hands, but for now he ignored it. 'You're not wrong.'

'Then you don't need to ask.'

'Drugs.' He didn't feel he had to say more.

Floyd's hand drifted back to the drawer again. 'And?'

'Well yes I know you pay the rent but we are living here as a couple and I really don't like that you've brought drugs into the place. You have no idea of the sort of trouble I will get into if someone found them there.' Why did Reid feel like he was talking to a child?

'I'll hide them somewhere more secure. Will that make you happy?'

Spencer put the mug down. It was burning his hands. 'Actually no it wouldn't make me happy. I want to know why they're there. You don't take that sort of thing. You never have. Who do they belong to?'

'Good question! You don't like the coffee? How gentle were they at the airport? Need anything kissed better?'

'No they weren't gentle with me! That's something else I wanted to talk to you about. Who was here?'

'Fine. Take the coffee, go sit down, relax, I'll tell you everything.' Well maybe some things… little bits… nothing important.

Spencer sat on his leather armchair with Floyd sitting on the floor in front of him. Floyd had picked up the book and suggested that Spencer ordered in pizza or something then they could relax and read to each other. As they sat and waited for the food, Floyd looked through the book with his head bent forwards. His hair fell around the sides of his dirty neck in a grubby straggly curtain, but it was the deep scratches on the back of Floyd's neck which caught Spencer's attention. He placed his mug down on a coaster and then ran a finger over one of the recently scabbed over marks. 'What happened to your neck?' He asked. A hand reached around and grabbed Spencer's. For a horrible moment Spencer thought Floyd was going to snap his fingers like they were old dried up twigs, and maybe Floyd was thinking that too, but he just gave Spencer's hand a tight squeeze and then let go again.

'Leave it babes. I'll explain later. Wait till the food's been delivered. Once we get into this shit I don't think we'll want interruptions.'

'Did someone attack you?'

Now Floyd turned slightly so he could see Spencer's face. 'No babes. No one actually attacked me. Not as such.'

'Where else do you have scratches?'

'Ah… that was the door!'

Spencer didn't hear the buzzer… 'Floyd?' But Floyd was standing up and walking away. 'Floyd! What the heck is going on?'

'Nothing sweet thing! Stop worrying your pretty little arse off over things which don't matter.'

Now Spencer stood too. Floyd was standing now with his back to the door. He'd not opened it. No one had knocked. 'Then why are you acting like something is going on?'

'Your suspicious thoughts are a direct result of your own whorish ways. If you didn't act like such a dirty slut you'd not even consider that a few scratches on my neck mean anything other than I scratched my neck cos it was itchy. So you have a confession to make _whore_?'

Spencer backed off. This was going to end badly and he knew it. He could tell by that almost inhuman glint in Floyd's eye. He could tell by the way Floyd's hands were in fists at his side and his head was banging on the door… slowly… taking a breath between each… and then _smack_ against the door again… another breath.

'OK, Floyd I didn't mean anything by it. I was just worried. I wasn't accusing you of anything.' Spencer raised both of his hands in subjugation. He'd been travelling since yesterday in one way or another. He'd had a show down with his mother, he'd not been able to sleep on the flight because of crying babies and chattering loud mouthed teenagers and then the trouble when the flight landed and now this! He'd had enough. Spencer didn't turn his back… no more than a subject would turn his back on his regent. Spencer walked slowly backwards with his eyes looking at the floor and his hands in front of him showing Floyd his palms. He wasn't going to do anything to upset him for as long as he could. If he could control this situation by being submissive then that's what he planned on doing. Slowly he moved away and slowly he saw Floyd's fists relaxing and Floyd pressing the palm of his hands against the cool wooden door. Floyd smacked his head on the door one final time and then with a small nod he turned and faced it, leaning forwards slightly and resting his forehead on the door. Spencer had backed all the way into the lounge again and went back to his chair. It squeaked slightly as he sat in it. It was old. It needed to be reupholstered but that wasn't going to happen. Floyd had offered to do it for him. He told Spencer that he liked to work with leather. He had said he could get the leather easily enough if given enough notice. Spencer then decided that the chair would probably last a few more years as it is. He did allow Floyd to sew a couple of places where the old leather had split. He'd not allowed him to patch it. Thinking about where Floyd would get his leather made Spencer's stomach heave violently. He pulled his feet up onto the chair and wrapped his arms around his shins. He then sat and wondered where else Floyd had marks from someone else. He wondered how long those marks had been there on his neck. Not long. There was a smudge of blood on the shirt Floyd had on. It was recent. It was whoever who had arrived here earlier with a gun and he could really think of only one person who ticked all the boxes.

Someone who had a colt python.

Someone who had a drug dependency.

Someone with long sharp fingernails.

Someone who drank coffee.

Someone who Floyd knew well. Very well judging by those marks.

Sam.

Spencer looked around the lounge. There was a desk in the corner… sharp edges… the computer chair was padded and safe. Coffee table… he'd cracked his head and face on that a few times in the past, and of course there were the bookshelves. There was also a door out onto a fire exit which had a big metal handle on it… and the window next to it had a stone ledge. Slowly Spencer put his feet back on the floor and picking up his book and coffee he stood again and walked, he hoped without showing any sign of the terror which had suddenly engulfed him, through to the bedroom. There was a bedside table, the closet, the chest of drawers, the trunk under the window, the bed posts and the walls… also the window here had a stone sill too, but there as also that huge bed. Spencer decided that if Floyd was going to beat him half to death, that it would be in here where at least there wasn't so much space to hurl him against a wall and there were fewer corners and lumps to throw him onto. He sat on the side of the bed and placed his mug on the night stand. He then picked up one of the pillows off the bed and lifted it to his face. He breathed in and smelt just a faint tinge of musk and a waft of washing powder. If Floyd had had someone in the bed in the short time he was away he'd changed the bedding and there didn't seem to be anything in the washing hamper, so it seemed that Floyd had maybe just lain on the top of the bed to rest but hadn't slept in it. At least that's what he was thinking with the pillow pressed against his face when it was suddenly ripped away by Floyd.

'What you doing in here? I thought we were going to do pizza and read.'

Spencer nodded slowly. Floyd didn't seem angry right now, but that could change quickly. He wasn't going to fool for this sudden change in his behaviour. 'You know I didn't rest at all on the flight there or back, mother was asking a lot of difficult questions and then that fiasco at the airport. I'm tired. I'd love to read to you and nibble on pizza, but can we do it on the bed?'

Floyd sat down next to Spencer and put an arm around his shoulders. 'Anything. Of course. If that's what you want then that's what we'll do. Didn't think you'd want to be thought of as a skank ho, but if you want to eat pizza in bed…'

Spencer sighed. 'Just this once. They did a rather intrusive search. I'm sore.'

Floyd raised an eyebrow. 'Well I asked if you needed anywhere kissing better.' The arm around the shoulder tightened. Spencer stiffened in the embrace. 'I missed you. I missed you so fucking much Spence. I was out of my freaking mind with worry about those flights. It's sod's law you know? I'd book the flights and it'd be them that got blown up over the desert somewhere. I'd never fucking forgive myself. Next time we'll go together, by train, or greyhound. I'm not biking all the way there. Disasters of great magnitude happen each time we attempt a road trip, but yeah, next time the train or bus. You cant fly again. Well unless it's work shit, but that's different. Hardly likely to have a terrorist stow away on a Fed jet are they?'

'You were worried for me?' Spencer started to relax a bit.

'Out of my brains with worry.'

'So who was here to help you over your anxiety?'

The arm disappeared from Spencer's shoulder. 'You sniffing pillows trying to catch me out? Is that what you were doing? Have you checked the bedding for stray pubes and stains?'

Spencer shook his head. 'I don't think I'll find any which don't belong there. That doesn't mean I don't think someone was here. Just not in the bed. Why cant you just tell me what's going on?'

Floyd placed the pizza box on the bed behind him. 'There's a guy downtown called Micky J. He runs a shack for boy whores. He's a pimp. He wanted some stuff for them. He came to me.'

'And how do you know Micky J and why would he come to you?'

'I'm a regular client.'

Spencer's hands went to his face. He leaned forwards so that his elbows were on his knees and the let out a long sobbing sigh.

'Well anyway, he wanted stuff for his boys. He knew me and asked if I knew anyone.' Floyd gave a small shrug. 'I told him I could get the stuff. So then I went to Milt Ash.'

'I know that name.'

'Drug dealer, so yeah, you might well.' Floyd rubbed a hand over Spencer's back. 'Well I got the stuff from Ash and sold it on to Micky J and not only did I make a packet but got sweet arses to fuck whenever I was around. It was win win really.'

'You sold drugs? You _sold_ them?'

'For sure! It's OK I didn't take them, well not much of them. Not all of them. But some.'

'My boyfriend is a drug dealer?'

'You make it sound so wrong! The boys are just little sluts Spencer. Micky J is doing them a favour letting them get off their faces when they're being done. Some people get pretty rough with them.'

'I feel sick.' Spencer went to get up, but Floyd pulled him down to sit again.

'You don't like the idea of me sticking my bits in young men?'

'BOYS!' Spencer shouted at him. 'You said Boys!'

'Oh by boys I mean not girls. I mean things with dicks and balls. I didn't mean kids! Fucking hell Spencer what sort of a person do you think I am? You think I'm a kiddy fiddler now? This is what I get when I tell you the truth about something. You make these crazy arsed accusations.'

'Drug dealing isn't crazy arsed! You'd go to prison! Again! I'd probably go to prison too! And who does the gun belong to? Is that some sort of protection?'

Floyd lay back on the bed and held his hands in front of his face. 'Eat the pizza.'

'Does – the – gun – belong – to – YOU?'

'No babes. It belongs to someone who came to visit when you were out. I gave that person a lift home, but said that the gun had to stay here. I'll hand it in to the cops tomorrow if it makes you any happier.'

'So there was a man here.'

'Not a man.'

'A woman?'

'No babes… please. Pizza… read to me.'

'It has to be one or the other!'

'It wasn't. Now please just…'

Spencer threw himself back onto the bed. 'Who was it?'

'OK… I have a friend who's a hermaphrodite. He… she… whatever has been showing me stuff. That's all.'

'Showing you _stuff_?'

'It's OK babes. I'm only interested in arse. Promises.'

'This is insanity. My boyfriend has been carrying on with a hermaphrodite behind my back… who on earth would believe such a thing?'

'He looks sort of like a very cute tranny. You might like him… No… forget that, you wouldn't like him. Deffo wouldn't like him. Pizza?'

Spencer was suddenly not feeling very hungry. He wanted Floyd to go away and leave him alone. He wanted him to get the heck out of his apartment and go to his freak of a _friend_ and play his games, but Spencer didn't want any part of it. Spencer wanted to be alone. Very much alone. Completely alone and the way he was feeling right now he didn't think he'd ever want Floyd's company again. He could feel those very familiar hands on him and touching him and pulling at his clothing. He could smell someone else on Floyd too. A sweet flowery smell. Floyd, though had Spencer out of his clothes before he found the energy to protest against it. Floyd then pulled off his own waistcoat and shirt and informed Spencer that he wanted him on his knees in front of the bed. Spencer could smell someone else on Floyd's breath. He could smell him. He could smell what Floyd had been doing and Spencer felt the gorge rising in his throat.

'I'm going to be sick.' He muttered as he crawled obediently to the floor.

'Think I give a shit? Puke all you want sweety.'

'I can smell him on you. You've not even cleaned your teeth.'

'He tasted good! Why would I want to get rid of that?' Floyd carried on telling Spencer how good the session with the freak had been. He told him of secret girly places he'd been shown and he had felt. He told Spencer how though he'd never screwed a cunt which was still warm and living he'd been pretty damned impressed. The thing had writhed under him and screamed for mercy. 'You never scream for mercy… you need to get something surgical done. I think that freak might have turned me straight.' But if so, this declaration didn't seem to be effecting the way he was performing in and on Spencer and Spencer's own wriggling and writhing and gagging and puking noises was just making the experience all the nicer for Floyd who ended this sweet session by letting out a howl of delight and punching Spencer on the back of the neck. The extra pleasure received by Floyd was the way Spencer stopped struggling, stopped puking and just fell forwards into the mess he'd barfed up onto the bed. 'Dirty fucker.' Floyd muttered, but thought to pull Spencer off the bed and lay him gently on the floor. Floyd then went and pulled a clean shirt out of the trunk. Had Spencer been conscious at this point he would have seen the bite marks and scratches covering Floyd's back. Thankfully for Spencer that was one delight he missed. Floyd checked that he'd not broken Spencer's neck then pulled the covers off the bed and lay them over him trying to avoid splashing puke over himself. He stood for a while trying to get his hands to stop shaking and for his breath to come back steadily and not keep hitching the way it seemed to be and he looked at Spencer laying there bruised and pale and sticky and wonderful…

'I gotta go out. Eat the pizza cold when you wake up.' He brushed a still shaking finger over the side of Spencer's face and then left the apartment. He needed to get drunk. But he thought tonight after so much excitement that he'd go get drunk at the place he'd taken Sam to. He picked up the gun, strapped it on, pulled on a jacket, grabbed his bike helm and with a final shaking of the hands to remove the last of the twitching he left Spencer laying in slowly cooling vomit on the bedroom floor.


	3. Chapter 3

3

When Floyd returned to the filthy squat Sam was _living_ in, he thought at first that the fool was dead. He'd not moved since he'd left him only a couple of hours ago. Floyd entered the dilapidated single storey building via a broken window over looking the over grown rear garden. He was now hunkered down on the other side of what maybe was once a bedroom, but was now a hole with a stinking stained mattress in the corner. Wall paper which had once had rows of pink roses blooming across it was peeling back on the joins and gradually curling down from the ceiling. Damp had stained the paper a brownish yellow from the bottom and dark mould was growing in the corners of the room and spreading over what Floyd thought might have once been carpet. The ceiling plaster had fallen down in chunks many years ago. In places you could see through the wood and up into the roof. The window in this room had been boarded over on the outside. In the room the remains of rotting curtains hung in grey ripped strips. There was a pink backpack laying just to the side of the door and there was a Sam laying on his back on the mattress. And yes, when Floyd first returned he thought Sam was dead. He should have been. The image of the dead junky in the rotting damp room fitted much better, but the slightly sunken chest with the new pair of firm (!) and squeezable (!) breasts heaved inwards and Sam let out a soft sigh of a breath. One bare foot twitched and then his fingers moved.

Floyd moved in closer and hunkered down again. Sam stank. He smelt of piss and vomit and blood and death… he stank of the room – that rotting plaster and paper smell that old places always seemed to have. Sam was wearing a pair of wet denim shorts and a girl's blouse which was drenched in sweat. There was a bit of rubber tied around his left arm and a needle laying on the floor next to him. Floyd picked it up and tossed it over into the shadowy corners and then put a hand out and touched Sam on his right hand. 'Hey,' whispered. 'Wake up.' He prodded Sam slightly.

'I'm awake.' Sam muttered back. 'I don't feel too good though.'

'I thought you were dead.'

'You were _hoping_ I was dead.'

'That too.'

'Why are you here?' Sam opened one eye and blinked it and then closed it again.

'Had to make sure.'

'Of what?'

'A few things.' Floyd moved closer and pulled the gun out of from under his jacket. 'You see I really thought that shit would kill you. It would kill the normal street slut. I guess you're special though. But I was going to make sure and blow your brains out anyway.' He waved the gun in front of Sam's closed eyes and when they didn't open he prodded Sam on the nose with it. 'Open your eyes.'

'I don't want to. The light hurts. I feel sick. I want to be alone.'

'Need to talk to you first. You see what you tried to do didn't much work. I just went home and fucked Spencer. So your little cunny and those sweet little tits didn't do the trick.' He moved the colt down and pressed the barrel against Sam's left breast. 'I could blow them right off.'

'Go for it. Right now I don't care any more.' The sulky whining tone had taken over from the tired drugged voice he'd been using.

'Then…' Floyd replaced the gun in the holster, '… where is the fun in tormenting you?' A finger prodded at Sam where the gun had just been pressing. 'I'm a fag, Sam… I like sticking my cock up arse. I quite like being the receiver too, but you know, you have to be a real dirty whore or you have to trust someone with your life if you're going to voluntarily put your back to someone when all sense will be lost during the heat of passion.'

'Heat of passion?' Sam pulled at the rubber band around his upper arm. 'You don't know the meaning of that word… _passion_… fucking hell Floyd… you'd not know passion if it punched you on the nose. You like control. That's why you like arse. You like people being on their knees and you like people to put their naked arses towards you. It's not because they trust you though.'

Floyd stood and walked towards the boarded up window. 'You don't know me that well.'

'I know you well enough to know that it's fear that makes people let you do the filth you do to them.'

'Money, not fear.'

'You just better hope you didn't get me preggers. Now that would be interesting.'

Floyd turned and looked at the creature laying on the mattress. A look of total revulsion crossed his face. 'I sucked my cum out of you.'

'Don't I know it! Damn! Want to do that again to me? It's no matter though, I could still get up the duff and then you'd have to support me!'

'You're asking for a fucking death warrant Sam. Shut the fuck up. You're a boy with some added extras for playing with. You cant get fucking pregnant. You don't have the internal stuff needed.'

Sam rolled over and gave Floyd a narrow eyed look. 'Don't be so sure, Floyd. You don't know what I asked for do you?'

Floyd was there in a flash, grabbing Sam around the neck with both hands and hauling him up off the mattress. He held him wriggling with his feet off the floor and gave him a good shake. 'You're a filthy sub-human mother fucking lesser dog demon. You're not even a real fucking demon! You're a dog!' Another shake. 'If you want to get impregnated you need to get some street dog to fuck you. Understand me!' Sam kicked him hard on the shin to let him know that he understood. Floyd dropped him to the floor where Sam landed in a crump.

'Why wont you just kill me!'

'Because I don't want to give you what you want! I want to see you suffer. I want to see you fail. I want to see you squirm and kick out and panic and cry your snotty disgusting tears and I want to see you being rejected and I want to see that sickness take over.' Floyd kicked Sam gently with his booted foot. 'I want you to beg me for more. I want you to come crawling to me and pleading me for something to jab into your skinny whores arms. I want you to need me.'

'You're a fucking shit!' Sam whimpered

'YES! Yes I am. You should have killed me again when you had the chance, but you thought you could tempt me away from Spencer with something he didn't have to offer. It was a good try. Very good try, but didn't work Sammy-boy. Didn't work. Why in the name of everything fuckable would I choose a skank whore like you over something like Spencer? Answer me? Why? What made you think I'd do such a thing? I choose him over you time after fucking time!'

Sam got to his knees and moved back to the mattress. 'Leave me alone. Spencer smacked my brains out. I'm never going to forgive him for that. Never.'

Floyd nodded. He knew deep down that he should just put the creature out of his misery. He should put a bullet between his eyes for him and set the place alight. He knew that's why he'd come here, but now looking at the thing crawling to the mattress he couldn't do it. 'I have just enough pity in my heart to see that you're in pain.' Floyd said. 'I've enough to know that you cant live like this for long. I've even enough to recognise the disease and sickness. I can smell it coming off you in sickly cloying waves, but I don't have enough pity to end it for you. There's enough kit there for you for a few days. I've other stuff if you need it. I can get you other stuff. You will though stay away from Spencer. I'll come to you. If you're not here I'll put stuff under the mattress.' He pulled a few twenty dollar bills out of his pocket and dropped them on the floor. 'You've enough stuff… don't buy any. You don't know what you're buying and you look like an easy mark. Get yourself food and water and get something to clean yourself up with. You stink of cunny and sweat. Not a nice combination.'

'Go fuck yourself.'

Floyd smirked. 'I think maybe that's something you might want to try.' He gave Sam a small salute and a smile. 'See you later then Sammy-boy. I'll be back in a couple of days.'

'Sure you will.' Sam curled up with his back to Floyd and squeezed his eyes shut again.

Floyd climbed back out of the window he'd entered by and walked the couple of blocks to where he's left his bike in a safe place with security cameras and a short yellow haired man monitoring the tickets. Fucking parking pay and fucking display every damned where. That or parking meters…

o-o-o

Spencer wasn't totally sure what had happened when he woke up on the bedroom floor. He could tell he'd been sick and he obviously knew part of what Floyd had done, but the blinding headache and the dreadful pain in his neck were a mystery. Someone, who he assumed was Floyd, had put a blanket over him, but he was still shivering and cold when he finally opened his eyes to check that he was still in the bedroom and hadn't been sold to slavery or packed up for a butcher. Neither idea were totally beyond something Floyd would do. He rubbed at the back of his neck and then slowly pushed himself up to sit. He made a wet squashing sound as his skin parted company with the floor. He managed to get to the shower, not caring now if he left drip marks on the tiles and stood under the hot water with his hands out in front of him and pressed against the wall. He shampooed his hair and scrubbed and washed as much inside and out as he could. Afterwards with a towel around his waist he stood and scrubbed at his teeth. He flossed. He used a mouth wash. He used the electric toothbrush and then a manual one. He then once again rinsed out with the mouthwash and finally managed to drag himself away from the bathroom and into the bedroom where he pulled on underwear and a white vest top and was just thinking about clearing up his mess when Floyd arrived back again.

Reid went out into the hallway and saw Floyd standing there with something in his hand. 'For you.' He held it out.

A rose. 'For me?'

'Who else would I buy flowers for? Or flower… singular.'

Spencer walked forwards and took the rose from him. It was red and the stem had had the thorns removed. It was contained in a small plastic tube with water in the bottom. Spencer looked at it cautiously and then looked at Floyd and smiled. 'You've never given me a rose before.'

'Spence, I know that having drugs in the apartment is not a very good idea. I know I promised not to carry a gun. I know that under normal circumstances that I'd not take that sort of shit out there in the kitchen. It's an apology.'

Spencer looked again at the rose. He wanted to be happy, but by accepting this he was also accepting that there was going to be drugs paraphernalia in the kitchen and there was going to be a gun which wasn't for work use. He was accepting that Floyd was selling drugs to some dirty pimp who was very likely running a paedophile ring and he was also accepting that Floyd had been messing with a freak who was neither male or female.

And he couldn't accept any of that.

But he had to accept the gift.

'Floyd…' He wanted to explain these things but didn't know where to start. 'Thank you.'

Floyd nodded. 'I'll get rid of the drugs.' He told Spencer. 'I'll not deal with Micky J again. Does that make you happier?'

'I'll tell you what would make me happier… for things to go back to how they were. For me to go to work and come home in the evening and find that you've cooked dinner, been reading, out on your bike… not to come home to these strange smells and things.' Spencer went to the kitchen and found a small vase which he put the rose in. He carried it back to the lounge with Floyd in hot pursuit with a mug in each hand. Spencer placed the rose on the shelf next to the books. It was out of harms way. It wouldn't get destroyed if Floyd flew into a rage and battered him onto the coffee table (dark oak… very old… no ring marks).

'You want me to be a housewife.' Floyd said to Spencer after they'd both settled down. 'You want me at home doing housework and going out shopping. You want your laundry done. You want the floors clean. You want it to be me who cleans the vomit off the bedroom floor. You want me to pay the bills and arrange whatever shit has to be arranged. You want a fucking slave.'

Spencer sipped at his drink. 'That's not what I meant. I want to know that you've not been…'

'Been fucking around behind your back? Well I've told you I've been screwing someone else, so it's not really behind your back is it? He needs help Spencer. You know I'm a sucker when it comes to someone in need. He needs someone to care for him and make sure he has food, drugs, water… gets to his clinic visits, makes hospital appointments.'

'And you can. If you have a friend who needs support I understand that, but I'm just asking you not to go that extra step and have sex.'

Floyd shrugged. 'Sex.' A bit of a laugh maybe? Definitely a snort of some kind… but Spencer couldn't tell if it was amusement or not. 'You seem to think that sex has a special meaning. It doesn't. No more than sharing a coffee with someone. It's one body part being inserted into another. Why does that have to be exclusive to one person? Where did the idea of having a monogamous relationship come from? Now it's different for you of course. If I find you're screwing around with someone else then you're going to be in a hell of a world of pain and that other person is going to be dead. Not because I don't think sexual intercourse with someone means that the person is special, but because I've told you not to be a whore. I will fuck who I damned well please though. Make sense?'

Spencer opened his mouth to say something and snapped it shut again. He pushed hair behind his ears and nodded. 'You can go with who you want and I can go only with you. It's nothing to do with the act it self but to do with your jealous possessiveness.' He readied himself for a slap and was surprised when Floyd agreed with him.

'Just so. As for the girly-boy I'm seeing, well it's not going to be around long. Fuck it too hard and it'll die. It's dying anyway. I just thought it would be nice to show it some sort of respect. Let it die thinking it was more than a freak.' Oh a sweet, sweet lie.

'Fine. I understand. Just don't bring him back here again.'

'I wont. I assure you on that.' Floyd crossed arms around his chest and frowned. 'One moment babes. Going to take my jacket off.' He stood and walked quickly to the bedroom. Odd behaviour again. Floyd usually would have thrown it on the floor. Actually Spencer couldn't remember the last time Floyd wore a jacket. The thought that Floyd had the gun strapped to his chest under it didn't cross his mind. He looked up at the rose. At the apology and he sighed. Let Floyd have his fun with his little freak friend. There was no point in arguing about it. He would however insist that they both had some tests done at the clinic. It was, after all, Spencer who Floyd came home to. Small consolation when the man you thought you loved was openly messing around with someone else, but don't they say that _love is blind_? Spencer thought that love was also stupid, greedy, and an unrepentant thief of all common sense and self respect. It made you blinkered and unreasonable.

'Don't.' A voice snapped at Spencer.

Floyd was standing there with his coffee mug in his hand. Throwing distance easily. 'Don't what?'

'Grind your fucking teeth. That alone is enough to drive a man running to the nearest hermaphrodite.'

'Not amusing.' Spencer though relaxed his jaw. 'This person… is there anything I can do to help?'

Floyd sat on the edge of the coffee table and looked at Spencer directly in his big stupid hazel eyes. 'Absolutely nothing. You stay away from him. I don't want you following me. You've not been following me have you; from inside here?' Floyd touched his own forehead.

The man was insane. There was no doubt about that, but his insanity seemed to be on a fast upward crawl into a very dangerous overload. 'Following you? No. Why would I?'

'Why indeed. You see someone has. I thought it was Sa… I thought it was… I thought it was someone else and it admitted that it was… but then maybe it's a big a liar as you are? I don't sense you're being untruthful though. Just you stay away from him. He's not good news and will likely be dead soon anyway. It's not your problem unless you get involved. You're not going to get involved.'

Spencer felt his jaw tense up again. 'When would I have time to follow you? I'm either at work, with you somewhere, or unconscious on a random floor. I don't have the time or the need to follow you.'

'Good. And you don't have to sound so fucking snappy. I fucking apologised to you and bought you a damned gift.'

'It's a lovely gift too. Thank you.'

'So you've hidden it over there where you don't have to keep looking at it?'

Spencer looked over at where he'd put the apology. 'Floyd, I'm very tired. I have to be in work tomorrow and I don't want to be half asleep. Do you mind if I quickly change the bedding and clean up so I can get some proper sleep in before the morning?'

Flanders gave Spencer a hard stare. 'Whatever.' He slumped on the couch, leaned back and closed his eyes.

o-o-o

The surprise for Spencer was that Floyd let him go without complaints. He let him strip the bed down and change the bedding. He allowed him to put things in the washing hamper and not moan at him. He didn't even have anything much to say when Spencer got him glass of milk and gave Floyd a kiss _goodnight_ on the forehead. Floyd had nothing much to say at all. No snide remarks. Nothing. Either this was very good or it was very bad. Spencer wasn't sure. He _was_ sure though that he needed to sleep.

There was no surprise at all to wake up in the morning alone. The shock was that he didn't _think_ he'd been molested in the night. He found Floyd in the kitchen making yet more coffee and cooking up breakfast – naked except for an apron which he'd tied around his middle. Spencer stood and looked at Floyd's back and was now able to take in not only the ground in filth, but the bite marks, scratches, digs and bruises. It looked like he'd had a long fight with a bramble bush and had lost. There were also bruises on the back of his legs and when Floyd turned around Spencer let out a soft moan at the sate of Floyd's chest and shins. He really didn't want to know where else he had bites and bruises.

'Eggs!' Floyd seemed totally unaware of the look on Spencer's face and if he _was_ aware of it, he was choosing to ignore it.

'Thank you.' But did he want to eat something which that filthy man had cooked him? He would sleep with him but… he let out another strange strangled noise.

'What's wrong?'

'Oh nothing… absolutely nothing.' Spencer said and sat down at the kitchen table where toast had already been placed on a plate with a faint yellow rim. 'In the cupboard in the bathroom is a small tube of ointment. You should use some before those bites become infected.'

'Thank you for your ever loving concern. It's not needed though. I heal quickly.' He stirred the eggs again with one hand and picked at a scab on his chest with another.

Spencer would really have loved to have just got up and walked away. And when Floyd reached under his apron and scratched what was there too, Spencer stood up. 'I'm suddenly not hungry. I'll see you later. If I get called out I'll leave a message on the answer machine.'

'You're always so grumpy when you wake up. You need to eat.'

'You've been scratching your…. Your…'

'Balls… and you're usually happy to give them a suck for me. Why the sudden…'

'See you later.' Spencer cut him off. 'Have a nice day playing happy families with your sexually confused friend.'

'OK.' Floyd sounded a bit abashed by Spencer's outburst.

'And get those drugs out of the house.'

'Fine! I will! I'll get rid of them. Go to work and have a lovely day. Remember the rules.'

The door slammed and Floyd stood there with a smirk on his face.

o-o-o

For Spencer it was the sort of day when you know everyone wants to ask you what happened but dare not. It was the sort of day where there was a mountain of paperwork to get through, and that suited Spencer just fine. He could keep his head down and almost relax for a while. JJ wafted through a couple of times, but Spencer avoided talking to her. He knew she wanted to ask. He knew that she knew what had happened at the airport. Everyone knew. Hotch probably called them all in early just to let them know… or sent them messages on phones.

He was feeling paranoid.

He spent a good half hour in the restrooms before Morgan came in to see if he was all right.

'Why wouldn't I be?' Spencer talked to Morgan's reflection in the mirror.

Morgan's eyebrows did that annoying dance. 'You're acting odd kiddo.'

'I'm feeling a bit… a bit stressed. I saw mother…'

There was a nod from Morgan. No questions, but that knowing nod of his. That hand wiping over his shaved head and those dancing eyebrows again. 'You need to talk about it?'

He wanted to tell Morgan that he was quite the last person he'd want to discuss it with, but he held his tongue. All the years spent with Floyd had given Spencer a bit of a temper which he found he could internalise if he concentrated. 'I have someone to talk to about it.' He meant Floyd, but Morgan could assume it was a therapist if he wanted.

'Does he listen?' Morgan knew full well who Spencer meant.

'He's my partner, Morgan… yes he listens.'

'But does he hear?'

Spencer was going to tell Morgan to butt out of his life and leave him alone, but he ground his teeth, picked at a button on his jacket and nodded. 'Yes, yes he listens and he understands.'

'I'll leave you then…'

'Yes. Please do. I've got a headache.'

'Rough night?'

'Rough day at work.' Spencer snapped back.

And that was the end of that little chat, though Spencer was sure that it would all get reported back to Hotch. When Spencer returned to his desk there was silence, Hotch's office door was open… Hotch wasn't in there. Spencer wanted to ask where he was, but that creeping insidious feeling of paranoid was making its happy way back into Spencer's head and so he picked up his pen and doodled on his spiral binder… form filling would have to wait a little while.

o-o-o

Hotch was downstairs in a small security room talking to a young man who had requested that he spoke to Hotch. Sam sat with his baggy jacket on and a pair of red jeans. He had black boots on. His hair was filthy. One of his eyes seemed to be looking off in the wrong direction. He had a ring of bruises around his neck. His fingernails were painted blue… some of them had something glued onto them. They were chipped and broken.

'Sam.' Hotch had said when he saw him.

A sob of distress came out of Sam's mouth. 'I didn't know where else to go.' A lone tear travelled down his bruised and dirty face.

'This is my place of work.' A gentle voice talking to a broken person.

'I don't know where you live.' A lie. Pick, pick, pick at the fingernails.

'I cant give you my address.' Stay gentle.

A huge sob, a sniff, wiping of the nose with the hand. 'Everything went bad. I've got no one.' No one except Floyd who supplied him with his bruises and drugs. 'And I've tried and nothing works.' More tears, more lies.

Hotch reached over the table they were sitting at and rested a hand over one of Sam's. 'I cant talk to you or help you now. Can you meet me outside the building at say… seven tonight?'

'Oh… evenings are bad… so bad.' A splash of a tear onto the back of Hotch's hand. 'They come for me at night.'

'Who comes for you?'

'You know.' A drip of snot onto the back of Hotch's hand… Hotch tried to pull away, but Sam turned his hand and gripped hold of Hotch's larger stronger hand. 'The dealers… the pimps. People after money. People after me because of what I look like, what I am, who I am… you know. And I've infected some whores and they're after me too.' He let go of Hotch's hand. 'I don't know what to do. The clinic wont even see me any more. They wont let me in. The shelter wont feed me cos they say I'm not clean and dry. I cant whore because I've not an infection and if I pass it on then they come after me… I cant pay the dealers and they're after money I cant get. I'm told I should get off the drugs and get a job, but who's going to employ me? I just need a fresh start. I need to be able to take a bath and get meds.'

A good story. A sad story if it was true, but this was Sam. 'I have a young child in my home now.' An explanation.

'I could baby sit!'

'Sam… by your own admission you're on drugs and sick. I don't want you near my son.'

A wail of distress. 'They'll kill me! You've got to help me Aaron. Please. I didn't want to beg, but I am. I'm begging you for help. I cant do this alone. I need support from someone. I need…'

'No.' He had to be firm. 'I cant have you in my home Sam.'

'Then give me some money so I can get a place of my own.' Reasonable request?

'Sam… I… Just meet me later. Seven tonight. Outside the building. Jack is having a sleep over at a friend's house tonight. You can come back, use the shower, have something to eat and then I'll take you back to wherever it is you're staying. You cant stay with me. Do you understand?'

'Oh… yes… I understand. I'll see you later then?'

'I'll see you later.'

'Can I borrow a couple of dollars for something to eat?'

Hotch pulled out his wallet and handed over a ten. 'Make sure it is food and nothing else.'

'I will. Thank you. Tonight then.' A small smile. Tears gone. Snot dried up. A miracle.

Hotch stood and Sam stood with him. 'Stay out of trouble.'

'Oh I will. I'll try. They snatch at me from the shadows. They've threatened me with a gun. They… they… abused me.'

But the door closed and Hotch was gone. Sam grinned and slid his hands up inside his jacket and gave himself a little squeeze. 'He's going to _love_ those when he sees them! I'm so in there!' Sam left the building, crossed the road, dodging the honking cabs and cars, darted down a side alley way and grinned at Floyd.

'Done. He's meeting me after work and I'm going back to his. He said he'd feed me and let me have a shower and then take me home. Jack wont be there though, but if I go to his place once then I'll have a fine excuse to turn up again.'

Floyd gave Sam a quick hug. 'You've earned your treat. Good dog.' He pulled the glass pipe out of his pocket and then a small bag of something. 'Don't over do it. Actually save it for when you're with Hotchner. Give him a good reason to know you're in the shit. Once you've convinced him that you're a no good junky psycho, he'll be all over you to help. He loves it. He loves to think that he can achieve something I cant. If he cant get Spencer off me he'll take you in a fucking flash. And talking about flashing, does he know about your added extras?'

'No. I kept it all hidden, but I'm going to have a shower there so there's plenty of room for me to show him.'

'Good dog.' A kiss on the forehead. 'Go play…'

'When will I see you again?'

'I dunno. Clear off now. I've got to get home and do the fucking housework and laundry.'

Sam let out a small laugh. 'Spencer has you all domesticated. How the hell did he manage that?'

'I do it because I want to make him happy. I want to see him smile. Now fuck off and keep your nose clean and no smoking until you're with Hotchner. Seduce the mother fucker. I know you can do it.'

'I can. But I don't know why and I don't know what Jack's got to do with it.'

'Jack's got nothing to do with it, yet… See you later Sammy-boy.'

They gave each other a grin and a small salute and Sam was gone into the shadows with his prize in his pocket.

o-o-o

Spencer was in a sour mood when he got home that night. He was ready to come home to an empty apartment and was pleasantly surprised that there was a rich smell of cooking wafting around. There was also music playing and a wrapped package sat on the table. There was also a fully dressed, clean, happy Floyd there. And that clean happy Floyd gave Spencer a welcome home hug and a gentle kiss on the lips.

'I cooked. It's a strew thing. No human remains were used.' He drew a cross over his heart. 'There's wine… music… and something for you to open. I made a syllabub!'

Spencer grinned at him. 'Have you been sniffing glue again?'

Floyd's hand went to his nose, a frown formed on his forehead… 'That was a joke wasn't it?'

'Hell yes!' Spencer laughed at Floyd. 'You just seem to be on a bit of a high.' A pause and a risky question. 'Did you see your friend today? Did you help him?'

A nod from Flanders. 'I did. He seemed a bit better today. I gave him some cash for food and passed on the drugs to him.' He saw the look on Spencer's face. 'Oh he'd have spent food money on dope. It was better to do it like that. I took him… No… wait… I'll rephrase that. We went to the train station. They have those showers there… I paid for it, but he had a shower and I think… I think you're not really interested are you? You're just being polite.'

'I _was_ interested. If I'm having to share you with him, I'd rather he was clean.'

Floyd gave no denials, but nodded. 'So… go open your pressy whilst I serve up this grub and then you can tell me how work was today.'

The food was amazing. The wine was lovely. The syllabub was sweet and melted in his mouth. He even partook of an after dinner smoke with a small mug of very strong coffee. He then opened his gift. 'Dear god.' Spencer moaned.

'A book.' Floyd said.

'This is… I have no words to describe it.'

'Early sixteenth century. All had drawn and hand coloured. Worth a fortune. Luckily for you I have a fortune to waste.'

'Oh it's not a waste. This is the most awesome book I've ever seen. It should be in a museum.'

A heavily bound leather book sat on the table in front of Spencer. It was big… Almost as tall as the coffee table was across. 'It was and, I knew you'd like it.' Floyd felt like a parent watching his kids opening Christmas presents. He felt dreamy, lazy, indulgent… and more than a bit randy.

Most of what Floyd said was lost on Spencer as he ran a finger lightly over the leather book. 'I cant read the writing on the front.' Spencer ran a finger over the ancient embossed words.

'A sexual journey.' Floyd told him. 'That's what it says. Every other page has a map… old maps… outdated maps… no good to man nor beast, but interesting. The other pages are pornography. Sexual deviations man to man… it is probably the first ever gay instruction manual. Different positions… and stuff… A couple of pages near the back are stuck together, but it wasn't me. They were like that already and I think it rather adds to the delight of it.'

'Pornography.' Spencer muttered as he carefully turned the pages. 'Thank you.' He smiled at Floyd, but it was more of a worried grimace. Floyd was going to try all this out on him… and he'd have to play the game too. 'We could dress up in costume for the country the sexual act comes from… but… Floyd… I cant do handstands.'

'HA!' Floyd burst out a genuine laugh. 'I can!'

It was a happy evening. Even though some of the illustrations alarmed Spencer and made Floyd roar a laugh… For Hotchner and Sam the evening was very different.


	4. Chapter 4

4

Sam was there as he'd been told to be. Outside the building at seven in the evening. He'd managed in the time since he'd last seen him to get himself a bloody nose and split lip. No one had hit him, but he could say they had. It was a little extra ammo to use. What had actually happened was that he tried some of the white powder… just a little, snorted up his left nostril. A tiny amount, but he'd tried it whilst squatting in the tall grass and weeds behind the house. Then he'd slipped as his head spun horizontally and vertically at the same time it seemed. He'd landed on his face on what had once been the kitchen floor as he tried to climb back through the window and he'd stayed there for the remainder of the day looking at mouse and rat droppings and wondering how long he'd have to lay there until they started to nibble on him.

Floyd hadn't taken him for a shower at the station. That was a complete fabrication on Floyd's behalf. Sam knew nothing about that. He was still just as dirty and smelly as he had been earlier in the day, but that was good. He needed an excuse to have a shower at Hotch's place, so he stood, swaying slightly from side to side, with hands deep in pockets, feeling a desperate need for _something_, maybe some of that poison Floyd had generously donated to the _kill Sam fund_. A car honked. A window slid down. Sam walked over to the car and was about to say _Sorry, I'm not working_, when he spied Hotch.

'Get in.' He said to Sam.

'How…' He was going to ask _how much_? And stopped himself. His mind and mouth didn't seem to be working together very well today. He blamed it on whatever it was he'd snorted earlier.

'Strap in.' Hotch commanded as Sam slid into place and closed the door. 'What happened to your face?'

Sam touched the dried blood and sighed. 'As I said. People come asking for stuff.'

Hotchner nodded as the car slowly drifted along in the traffic. 'I was thinking maybe you'd be better off in rehab.'

Now Sam's hand went to the car door. There was no way in hell he was going to go into rehab. He'd rather be run over by a bus than go through the hell which was rehab. 'I've tried that.' He muttered. 'It wont work. The problem isn't the drugs as such. I don't work the streets just to get money for dope. I'm not a junky. It's more that the people I mix with are junked and so I just join in, and then it snowballs… no pun intended… I like snowballing… but yes, you see? I get in with the crowd working the streets, because you have to if you're going to work them too. Then they relax with stuff and it just follows on from there. No one wants to be the only sober person at a party. I like your car, is it a company car? It's lovely and clean. I can still smell that _new car_ smell. Things I have never smell like that for long. They get stolen and messed up pretty quickly. You're lucky you know that don't you? You're lucky you don't have to live with rats and shit. You've got a job. I wish I could hold down a job, but I never finished my schooling and no one would employ me anyway. I cant even get a job in a fast food place.' At this Hotch gave Sam a quick look. He could understand why they'd not want him around food.

And that new car smell wasn't going to be there for much longer.

'If you went to rehab and straightened your self out you'd have a much better chance.'

'You know that's bullshit Aaron. You know that. You work with people who have dropped through the bottom of society, and I'm not for one minute suggesting that every bad person out there has fallen maybe as low as I have, but a lot of them have. You know that rehab doesn't work. Once you've been there, there's no way back out of it again. Not unless you have the proper support system in place and I don't have that.' A wobble in his voice. 'Life can be very lonely when you're a…. when you're someone like me.'

'You have Floyd.' Hotch pulled into a street with less traffic but didn't pull over.

'I don't have Floyd. He hates me. He loathes me. He wishes I would die. He'll not support me at all. He just wants Spencer. They just want each other and there's no room for anyone else in that relationship. Floyd has Spencer right where he wants him.' Sam was talking fast and looking out of the window, watching carefully the way they were going and making mental notes of street names. 'If I had Floyd I would have gone to him, but I don't. Spencer… well… you know he has a bit of a temper. He lashes out. He's a spiteful queer when he feels threatened.'

Hotch just listened. He could tell that most of what Sam was saying was fabrication. He just didn't know all of which parts. The fact that Spencer was a _spiteful queer_ made Hotch want to tell Sam to get out of the car and never contact him again. That wasn't Spencer at all. Spencer was gentle. That was one of his most endearing qualities. Sam was the sort of person who would set fire to a cat's tail to watch it run howling… Spencer was the sort to move a snail off the walkway to save it from being trodden on. Flanders was the sort who would then go get the snail and stand munching down on it whilst he forced Spencer to watch.

'We're here.' Hotch pulled into the driveway of a small very tidy little house. 'Remember what I said.'

'Shower and food then home. I remember.'

Hotch nodded at him. There was something about Sam which didn't fascinate him so much as draw him to the youth. Hotch had seen too many horrific things in his life, but he thought probably Sam had seen more. Seen it up close and very personal. It would have been nice to be able to think that he could in some way give a small bit of comfort to this person, and he was aware that no amount of offering him a shower or a bit of food was going to repair damage, but if he could give this person one reason to smile… maybe it would lessen the guilt. Though why he felt guilt he didn't know. Sam wasn't his child. He wasn't his responsibility, yet if something went wrong and Sam slipped further down the hole he was already in he would for some reason blame him self. One shower. One meal… one lift home. That's what was on offer. It was going to have to be enough. However much guilt he would feel, he didn't want this person around his own son.

He showed Sam where the bathroom was on the next floor up. Sam asked if Hotch could possibly wash his clothes for him and get them dry before he left. It didn't seem too unreasonable request to Hotch. At least Sam would be leaving his rather nasty smell behind him. He told Sam to leave his things outside the bathroom door. He told Sam that when he was finished he could use the bathrobe off the back of the door. He told Sam that he would be down in the kitchen when he was finished.

'Use the shampoo, shower gel… what ever you need.'

'I desperately need an anal douche.' Sam informed him.

Hotch told him that he wasn't able to assist in the request. He'd have to make do with what was on the small shelf.

Sam said that was fine and closed the door. He did leave his things for Hotch to wash and it was an interesting mix of things Hotch picked up to shove in his washing machine. The red jeans, a pink and white girl's blouse (with a double row of small white buttons up the front), a very odd and uncomfortable looking under garment, which Hotch picked up whilst wearing rubber gloves. There were no socks. He assumed Sam didn't wear any. He'd not put his jacket out for the wash, and the boots Hotch took downstairs and placed by the front door ready for when he left.

The machine made a whirring sloshing sound. He stuck a lasagne in the oven and put on the timer and then poured a drink. He had a feeling he was going to need it. After a half an hour wait Hotch stood at the bottom of the stairs. He was about to go up and see if Sam was all right when he heard the sobbing sounds. _Damnit_… Hotch didn't want to deal with a crying Sam. He didn't want to get close enough to him to touch him. How do you comfort someone in distress and not touch them? He walked slowly up the stairs and it was just two runs from the landing that he realised that the sound wasn't coming from the bathroom… the bathroom door was open. The sound was coming from the room across the hallway. Jack's room. Hotch took the last two steps in one and three more long strides took him to Jack's open bedroom door. He was going to go in shouting. Telling Sam to stop whatever depraved act he was doing, but Sam was crouched down in the middle of the room with a towel around his waist. One hand was moving a toy truck back and forth. The other was resting on the floor next to Sam for balance. 'Sam.' Hotch snapped at him.

Sam turned his head to look at Hotch. Water was running down his arms from his dripping wet hair. 'I just wanted to look.' He moved his hand off the truck and he wiped at his eyes. 'You really love Jack don't you?' Sam slowly stood, but he still had his back to Hotch. 'This room… It's just awesome. He's a lucky kid.' Somewhere downstairs a beep, beep, beep sound started.

'Dinner is ready.' Hotch told him. 'And yes, I love Jack.'

Sam sighed. 'I was just looking. Don't be mad at me.'

'I should have told you not to go wandering off into other rooms. You need to go downstairs.'

'He likes trucks and soccer.' Sam stated. 'I've never seen the point in kicking a ball around and I never had toys.'

'Dinner is ready.' Hotch repeated. He wasn't about to discuss Jack with Sam.

Sam turned around.

Hotch had been expecting to see the skinny young man he'd seen before. He's been expecting sallow sick looking skin and a sunken chest with his ribs showing. He'd thought Sam was probably bruised… and he could have dealt with all of that. What he was looking at was something different all together. He blinked, swallowed and then turned his back on Sam. 'I told you to put on a bathrobe.' That was all he could think of to say, but it answered the question he was going to ask about the girl's blouse. Sam had a nice tidy pair of breasts and yes, Hotch could see his ribs… his hip bones sticking out like someone who'd been starved for a life time, bruises, cuts, scratches… track marks up his arms… and most likely other places too. He could clearly see where someone had had hands around Sam's throat, he could see finger sized bruises on Sam's upper arms. But all of those things he had sort of been expecting… it was that female upper half which had taken all words out of Hotch's mouth… and the bite marks covering them. He looked like someone had tried to eat those breasts right off him. 'I'll get the bathrobe.' Hotch managed to say.

'Oh.' Sam muttered. 'I always forget about these things. I'm still not used to them really. Do you want to touch them?' Sam prodded at his nipples with this fingertips.

Hotch could hear Sam's voice was closer. He was directly behind him. 'No… Sam I don't.' Questions, a million questions… they would wait though until Hotch had formed them properly in his head.

'That's not all I've got. You want to see what else?'

Hotch certainly didn't want to see what else. He walked quickly to the bathroom, grabbed the robe off the back of the door and dropped it on the floor in the hallway. 'Please cover yourself up and then come down for food. I think we have things to talk about.'

Sam grinned. 'For sure we do.' He said as he picked up the green cotton robe. 'I bet you have a thousand questions to ask me.' But Hotch was already downstairs again.

They sat facing each other with a plate of finely cooked food in front of them. Sam ate quickly… with his fingers. Hotch thought of saying something but didn't want to put more pressure on the situation which was feeling just slightly tense. At least for Hotch it was feeling that way. Sam appeared relaxed and more at home than Hotch would have liked.

'I know what you're thinking.' Sam suddenly announced around a mouthful of food. Hotch looked up from his plate and sighed. 'You want to ask about my tits.' Sam told him. 'I just woke up with them. Amazing huh? I'd put it down to some hormone imbalance.' Hotch nodded. 'But they're not! Cos I woke up with a twat too.'

Hotch's fork was placed on the edge of his plate. 'Sam…'

'Oh I know what you're thinking! It's not possible. You're born either a girl or a boy, but seems not! I just had to wait to mature slightly before the other bits sort of appeared. They're not big boobs though… small and sweet. I like it when someone sucks on them. I love to suckle, don't you? I wish I was able to suck my own.'

Hotch now pushed his plate away from him. He didn't think he'd be eating anything else today, and possibly not tomorrow either. 'Have you seen a doctor?'

Sam smiled and pulled Hotch's half full plate towards himself. 'You don't want this? Can I have it?' Hotch waved a go ahead at the plate and Sam dipped his fingers in and began to eat again. 'You're not the world's best cook. I mean compared to Floyd, but this is probably the best nosh I've had in a long old while. I've not seen a doctor. I don't have medical insurance and the clinics refuse to see me now. They thought I was taking the piss out of them. I showed them what was growing in various places but they just threw me out. Do you have any ice cream? I'd kill a bowl of it if you have any. If it's not too much bother.'

'You need help. More help than I can give you. You need to be seen by a professional.'

'Some quack who wants to see the boy who suddenly grew boobies and a pussy? No thank you. They take photos. That's creepy. And it's legal. Don't you think that's sort of disgusting? It's legal pornography. You know I get a lot of people coming to me… and in me, who like kids. They think they can screw my arse and they imagine I'm younger than I am. It's kind of revolting isn't it? But then those doctors are allowed to touch me and stick things in me and take photos and squeeze my boobs and that's all fine. They go to their _inner office_ and have a good wank and then come back and give me an appointment for the following week. For another touch and squeeze. They get off on it. I don't get paid either. I think that's maybe the worst part. It's not like a sexual encounter…' Sam frowned and pushed the empty plate away. '…it's like legalised rape.' A tired sigh. 'I don't want to be a part of that. You cant understand that cant you?'

In a way he _could_ understand it. He wouldn't want to feel that he'd been assaulted and that there was nothing he could do about it either. 'Have you actually been to see anyone?'

'No. And I'm not going to bother to either. I know I'm a freak. I don't have to be given a certificate to prove it. Do you mind if I have a smoke? I'll go in the garden if you don't want me smoking in the house.'

Hotch felt that he'd done what he'd offered. He'd given Sam food and warmth for a while. He didn't want him settling in and getting too comfortable though. Especially not with this new very strange body he seemed to have developed. Sam dragged on his jacket over the top of the bathrobe and walked barefoot out into the garden. He could see Jack's tyre swing hanging from a tree branch and he watched as Sam walked over to it and sat down with his back to the house. It was time he took Sam home. But for a short while he just stood and watched him. It seemed Sam was getting just a tiny bit of peace out there alone. It was a shame to spoil it. A bigger shame to fall for Sam's manipulations. He checked the laundry and found things had dried, so he folded them and placed them on a kitchen stool. Hotch then walked out into the garden to let Sam know that it was time to go home again. He walked over the close cut lawn to the place where the swing was gently moving back and forth. There was a bare patch of earth under it where Jack's feet scuffed on the turf enough to stop the growth. The imperfection filled Hotch with a sort of contented joy. Silently he moved to the side of the swing and then he turned to look at Sam who was sitting looking up at the tree branches. Sam was holding something in his hand and it certainly wasn't a cigarette.

Hotch closed his eyes briefly and then put his hand out. 'Give that to me.' It was an order. It was the way he would speak to Jack if he had something dangerous in his hands. 'I thought you were coming out here to smoke a cigarette.'

Sam sighed and went to put the small glass pipe back into his pocket.

'I said _give it to me_!'

'Oh for fuck's sake Aaron.' He slapped the pipe into Hotch's hand. 'I've not lit up. It's OK. I wouldn't do drugs in your house or on your property. I know you have a kid. I was just reminiscing. Check it. It's not even warm. It's not even been used for the love of shit.'

Hotch turned the thing over in his hand. Sam was at least being truthful about it appearing not to have been used. 'Is this for…'

'Meth.' Sam finished for him. 'Are you going to give me a lecture or will you just get on with the assault? Either way I heard it all before or I've been hurt more. Doesn't really matter. But I'm telling you now Aaron that if you tell me that doing stuff like that is going to kill me… that it's illegal… that it will do dreadful things to my body… well I don't give a flying fuck about any of that. It's blatantly obvious that it screws you over in the end, but for a little while it's actually nice. Can I have that back now you've given it your inspection? It was a gift. I don't get many gifts and I tend to cling a hold of them.'

Hotch didn't give it back though. He was going to hammer it into a thousand shards and dispose of it. 'Your things are dry. I'll give you a lift home.'

'You'd really send me back onto the streets? Cant you see the bruises and bites? Cant you see what people do to me when I'm out there alone and without protection?'

Hotch nodded and put the small pipe in his pocket. 'Please go and get dressed, Sam. I'm not sure what your game is but it's come to an abrupt end. Get in the house, get dressed and go.'

Sam felt his lip twitch into a snarl. 'You're all the fucking same! All of you! No one gives a shit and you wonder why the country is going down the pan. You look at the mutilated corpses at dump sights and you wonder what sort of person could have done that and then you send me out onto the streets again. You don't really give a fuck do you? I thought you were different. I really thought that because you had a kid you'd understand what it was like. How would you like it if Jack was living like this? How would you feel if one day close to his eighteenth birthday he came home doped up and arse fucked and told you that he enjoyed it! How would you feel if Jack was a body at a crime scene? It wouldn't be so easy to ignore it then would it? You'd have to face the shit then. But right now you can put it all down to brownie points, catch the unsub and then go out for a drink and meal with your buddies. You're so fucking full of shit! So full I can see it coming out of your fucking ears.' Sam jumped down off the swing and flounced back into the house. As far as Sam was concerned it had all gone rather well. He had a better pipe back at the squat and some good stuff to smoke… he was ready to leave this place now. Jack must die of boredom having Hotch as a dad. The man never smiled. Never showed emotions other that dislike and distrust.

He waited for Hotch to be back in the kitchen before he disrobed. He offered to show Hotch all his secret places again and once again Hotch declined the invitation. 'Might be your one and only chance to see it.' Sam told him. Hotch was happy with that. He was happy never to get the chance again. With his clothes pulled back on again and his boots back on his feet, Hotch opened his front door and told Sam to get out. 'I thought I was getting a lift home!' Sam wailed. 'You cant expect me to walk all the way back… it's fucking miles!'

'Exercise is good for you. Don't contact me again Sam. I don't know what you're after but you're not going to find it here.'

Sam turned just as the door slammed in his face. 'You mother fucking cunt!' Sam howled. 'You cant abandon me like this! You cant do this! You cant take my meth pipe and then chuck me onto the street! Aaron! I'm sorry! If I said anything you didn't like I'm sorry! I'll let you have me! You can do me! I wont even ask for money… Come on Aaron… pleeease let me back in or give me a ride! Aaron!'

It worked a treat. Hotch pulled open the door again and stepped out with keys in his hand. 'You are unbelievable.' He hissed at Sam.

'And you offered me a lift home. I'd not have come all the way out here if you'd not.'

'Get in the car.'

A dog barked. People probably stood still in their gardens and homes… maybe even stopped sending that text on their iPhones, to listen at what was being shouted out front of the small house the Hotchner's lived in. Then as the car started up and nothing else happened life carried on as though nothing had interrupted it.

Sam gave a rough location of where he wanted to go to. He didn't want to give Aaron an exact address. He could do with out the drugs squad raiding him. He showed Hotch a place where he could pull over and tried one last time to persuade Hotch to give the pipe back. The request was declined. 'And I should ask you to turn out your pockets.' Hotch snapped.

'Yes… you probably should have done that earlier.' Sam pulled off the safety harness and pushed open the car door. 'Thanks for the food and for the shower and clean clothes. Much appreciated.'

He wondered if he should give Hotch a quick grope _goodbye_ and decided not to. He closed the door and gave a weak wave and the car drove away. Sam stood and watched it turn a corner at the end of the street and was about to turn and walk back to his filthy squat when a hand rested on his shoulder. Sam didn't remember much more about his evening. He puked… he knew that much. He was kicked and shouted at. He was pulled and dragged down some dark back street where the abandoned houses backed onto the closed rear doors of shops and he was shown what happens to boys who don't pay debts on time.

o-o-o

Spencer was in a much better mood at work the following day. Hotch's mood was low and thoughtful. He'd not slept well, thinking of Sam and of Jack… then the Sam thoughts led obviously to Flanders and then to Spencer. He finally decided to call Spencer into his office.

Reid sat looking slightly confused, but not nervous. The nervousness soon showed though with fiddling fingers and nose rubbing and pushing his hair behind his ears… rubbing the palm of his hands together and that small twitch of a smile.

'Have you seen Sam recently.'

That was the question which made Spencer nervous.

'Not for a long time. Not since… well… just no. I've not seen him recently.'

'He's not been to your apartment?' Hotch was looking worried. _Why was Hotch looking worried!_

'Not as far as I know.' A small shake of the head made the room spin violently.

'Has Flanders talked about him?'

'What is this all about? I might be able to help if you tell me why you're asking.'

'Sam came to me. He's a mess. I thought maybe…'

'A mess?' Spencer's fiddling became more manic. 'What do you mean?'

'Drugs.' Hotch wasn't going to go into the other little bits Sam had shown him.

Spencer thought for a moment that the floor was going to come up and smack him in the face. He took some deep breaths and squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. 'Drugs? What sort of drugs? And why are you telling me?'

'He had this.' Hotch placed the small pipe on his desk. Spencer let out a yelp of… a yelp of something… surprise? Disappointment? Anger? It was the same pipe Floyd had given to his little friend… 'Oh dear god.' Spencer muttered.

'He had track marks.'

Spencer just nodded slowly… 'Did he… was there any sign that he… This is going to sound absolutely insane if I'm wrong.' He took a deep breath. 'Did Sam have any sign that you could see, that he might have had…' He pointed to his own chest, unable to say the actual words unless Hotch got him locked up for being totally mad.

'Breasts?' A nod.

'Ah.' Spencer stood and then sat back down again. 'Well no… I've not seen him.' Fiddle fiddle fiddle. 'I really don't feel well. I think I need to go home.' Again he stood.

'If you're holding something back from me Spencer…'

'I have to be sure first. I might be adding one and one and making five… you know? But then again I might be adding two point five and two point five and making five.'

'I understand.'

Spencer left Hotch's office without the spring in his step, but now a lurching sickening twisting meander.

o-o-o

Floyd was pacing the apartment when Spencer burst through the door at mid-day. He slammed the door behind him, dropped his bag to the floor, put his gun in the drawer and then looked up at Floyd.

'Why did you lie to me?' Spencer spat at him.

'What particular lie are you talking about? And why are you home early? Trying to catch me out again are you?'

'Why? Because Sam went to see Hotch yesterday. That little freak you've been seeing is Sam! Why didn't you just tell me? What did you think I'd do if I knew?'

Floyd stood looking at Spencer with one eyebrow raised. 'I thought you'd carry on like a spoilt brat. Seems I was right.'

Spencer moved in fast. Much faster than Floyd thought Spencer could move. The slap across his face was much harder than he thought Spencer could administer too. He actually felt it. It stung. It made his eye water… he bit the inside of his mouth and he could taste blood in his mouth. Floyd placed a hand over the side of his face and could feel the heat coming from the stinging slap. 'Well that was a fucking mistake.'

'No! It's the most sensible thing I've ever done! I'm moving out. I've had enough.'

Moving out? Did Spencer say _Moving Out_? Had the world gone insane? Had Spencer been drinking? 'So I've been seeing Sam. What the hell of it?'

'You went to Sam and then… and then you came to me and I could smell him on you. I was really confused about that because the smell was all wrong. Too sweet to be Sam. But it's something to do with…' Again Spencer pointed at his chest. 'You filthy… _beast_!'

Reid felt the fist meet his face. He took a couple of steps back to balance himself but the upper cut knocked him back into the wall. 'Don't you ever fucking call me that. You have to remember who the fuck you're talking to.' Now hands were around Spencer's neck, but this was a Spencer who was not going to just stand there and let it happen. This Spencer, much to Floyd's surprise, hit back. Spencer kicked, kneed, scratched, bit, tried to head butt, stamped down on feet and wriggled. It didn't stop that feeling that his throat was being crushed. It didn't actually stop Floyd from making Spencer's face turn a funny colour. It didn't stop his eyes from going wide and his lips turning blue. When he'd stopped struggling and was just pushed there hard against the wall and his hands were still at his side and those eyes seemed to have lost focus, then Floyd released him. He watched Spencer slide to the floor. He watched his head catch the side of a small display table. He saw the little spray of blood.

Silence.

Except for Floyd's heavy breaths…

And Spencer's small keening sounds.

'Don't you _ever_ fucking hit me boy. Never! You understand? I thought you knew the sodding rules Spencer. I'll fuck who the hell I want. I don't have to give you reason for it. I don't have to give you a list of damned names. I'll do what I want to who I want… and you're included somewhere on that list. Not necessarily at the top. If I want to give Sam some of me, then you're not going to stop me.' He prodded Spencer with his foot and when he just moaned slightly, Floyd spat out a gob of blood which landed on the side of Spencer's pale face. 'Get the fuck up off the floor. You make the place look untidy.' Floyd walked off to the kitchen calling over his shoulder. 'And clean up the blood!'

Spencer hit him. Not only hit him but managed to make him bleed. He spat again, this time into the sink. He'd got too lippy lately. Time he was battered back into the place he should never have crawled out of. He couldn't understand Spencer's problem. He'd been with many other people before and Spencer hadn't blown a stack like that. He'd been with Sam before and this hadn't been too much of a problem, had it? Why this time? Floyd slammed kitchen cupboards and drawers and then sat on a bar stool and waited for Spencer's apology. It had been a bad morning. He'd gone to meet Sam and he'd not been there. It didn't look like he'd been back to the squat that night at all… not that it was easy to tell, but there were mice and rat droppings on mattress. He didn't think Sam had slept there. The money was stuffed under that damp stinking mattress and the meth and coke was still there along with the phials of poison he'd given him. He'd not moved on. He'd not gone somewhere and expected to be out all night. There was a lone candle stuck to the carpet and a box of matches next to it. There was his backpack next to the door. Sam should have been back. Floyd left a note for him… _Call Me…_ it said. That all happened first thing this morning. Sam hadn't contacted him yet and now this shit.

Spencer didn't move. He didn't think that moving was going to happen for a while. His breathing was coming in shuddering breaths and he hurt like he'd just done five rounds with… well with Floyd… which he possibly just had done, which would explain the phenomenal pain. He would liked to have explained the reason he was so angry… not angry… so _hurt_ that Floyd had kept the identity of his friend from him. He'd been playing with Sam's female parts. _That_ was what revolted Spencer so much. It was that he knew Floyd would go back there again and again. He'd try to get Spencer to join in. He'd push Sam onto Spencer and though many people had asked or rather suggested, that Spencer had been groomed by Floyd… it would have made no ultimate difference. Spencer was gay. He wasn't straight… and even without Floyd's influence he'd not be anything other than he was. The idea that Floyd's other… that Floyd was experimenting with Sam… it repulsed Spencer beyond all reason. That taste on Floyd's lips and on his breath… that had been Sam… it had been female Sam. Spencer managed to get to his knees and lean forward in time to puke. There was a cut on the side of his head, but nothing dreadful, it just throbbed slightly. He rested back so he was sitting on his heels and rocked slowly back and forth trying to work out what to do next.

'Get up and go to your room.' Floyd's voice snapped.

Spencer could behave like a naughty school boy or he could protest. 'I was hoping when you said your friend was a hermaphrodite that you were playing mind games with me.'

'I don't need to play mind games when I can play real games.'

'I was hoping that… I really don't… Floyd? How could you?'

'How could I what?'

'Do what you did with Sam?'

'You mean ram my dick up his juicy wet cunny? It was easy. He's good with his hands. Knows what to do… he'd make a high priced whore if he could get off the drugs. Personally I'd rather have arse, but it was something new and it was Sam. You want him?'

'Oh lord.' Spencer felt the room spinning again. 'I need to sleep.'

'I told you all of this before. You didn't seem to mind.'

Spencer looked at Floyd with narrowed cold eyes. 'You told me whilst you were having your way with me. It made me throw up, or didn't you notice that? I know that you see other men. I can deal with that Floyd, but with… with… I cant… I'm sorry. I cant. I don't want to even think of it. It disgusts me to a depth I never thought I could feel. You repulse me.'

Floyd hunkered down beside Spencer. 'What part of it disgusts you so much? I fuck dead people Spencer. You've never reacted like this before.'

'Go – away.'

Well he didn't go away, but Spencer didn't say much else for the next few days. He was tied as he lay on his front to the bed. His ankles strapped to the end posts and his hands cuffed to the handy rings on the headboard. Floyd kindly slipped plastic sheeting under Spencer so he didn't get the bed wet. Then he sat watching him wondering what had gone wrong and why Spencer was being such a bitch.

Floyd explained to Spencer when he thought that Spencer was actually listening and not just causing a huge fuss over nothing, that he was tied to the bed for a couple of reasons.

'You hit me.'

'I was defending myself.'

'You grew balls and muscles.' Floyd told him. 'I can accept that you'll defend yourself – to a point – but I will not _ever_ accept a bitch slap from you. That was a very big mistake. You'll learn. The other reason that you're there thinking about what you've said to me is your stupid threat that you're going to leave. I don't really give a shit…' Was that a lie Floyd just told? Floyd thought it might have been. 'The thing is that I know you'll go running to Hotchner and I'm going to have to put my foot down. I've been good to you Spencer. I've been very good to you and I don't want to have to kill you just because you think you can find something better somewhere else. Something you can slap around and get to do what you want. No matter that you've grown a bit of backbone… no matter… you're mine. If I cant have you, no one can. Get my drift?'

'Untie me.'

'You're not listening to me are you?'

'Untie me.' Grinding teeth.

'When you start listening and when you become reasonable I'll untie you. Until then, I think you should stay right where you are. I need to pop out for a while. I know how well these places are sound proofed. Don't waste your breath calling for help. It's not going to arrive. I'll call you in sick for tomorrow… as for the next day? Well we'll have to see how things are going, but I've a funny niggling feeling that you wont be going back in again. Maybe as a victim of a dastardly crime, but not as an Agent. I think your days doing geographical profiles are well over.'

'Untie me, Floyd. This has gone too far.'

'Nope.'

'Floyd.'

'Don't get sassy with me boy. I told you why you're there. If you're going to act like a child, you'll be treated like one.'

'Parents do not tie their children to their beds.'

'And _that_ sweetheart is why there are so many problems in the world.'

o-o-o

For Floyd that was the end of the discussion on that particular matter. Spencer was _not_ going to threaten him… not in any sense. He'd not let him. He'd not allow him to go somewhere else. It just was one of those completely unthinkable things. He did however feel the need to go and check up on Sam. He'd not phoned, but maybe he didn't have the correct number. He sat on the floor with his back to the wall and watched Spencer who had eventually fallen asleep. Mental exhaustion. 'Fucking wimp.' Was what Floyd muttered. He waited for it to be dark and then after making sure that Spencer wasn't going to choke on anything… not that he really cared if he did, but just in case… he left to see if he could locate Sam.

The note was still on the mattress. More mouse crap was there… some on the note. Sam hadn't been back. Floyd stood in the room until light began to seep through the boarded windows, then he wrote the number down on the bit of paper… the landline number for the apartment, and he even left some change… no excuses now – and he left again… reluctantly… he had to make that sick call into work for Spence. He slid out of the broken window, snapped off a few ends of grass and sprinkled them on the ledge just inside… if Sam returned Floyd would know. If Spencer hadn't been such a drama queen he'd not have had to tie him to the bed. There would be no need to hurry home again to check on him. He could have stayed here or searched around and asked questions, but once again it was Spencer getting in the damned way. Floyd felt like pounding his head against a hard surface, but pulled went back to his bike and returned home first. No point in knocking himself out. No point at all. But that was two nights that Sam hadn't been back. Two nights… that was far too long.

Spencer was awake when Floyd got back. It was just about six in the morning. He didn't bother talking to him, but he went straight to Spencer and sat on the side of the bed and with his elbows digging into his thighs he rested his head in his hands. Spencer was watching out of narrowed eyes. Watching for what mood Floyd was in. Trying to work out how to talk to him, which course to take to get him out of the mess he seemed to have gotten himself into.

'What's wrong?' He finally asked.

Floyd turned and looked at Spencer. He could see the bruises on his face and the dried blood on the side of his head… his hair was matted and messy, but Floyd just sighed and looked away again. 'Why would I explain to an unreasonable bastard like you?'

'Because you came home? Because you're sitting on the bed?'

Which was true. This was home. Spencer was home. This was where he felt safe… comfortable… in control. Floyd looked down at his hands and wasn't all that surprised to see blood seeping out from behind his fingernails. His hands hurt. His knuckles were bruised from smacking Spencer, but they ached through to the bone. His feet were hurting too and felt damp inside his boots. He'd not taken them off to look yet though. He could feel a tight band of something around his chest making each breath he drew in painful. He swallowed the nasty taste he had in his mouth and wriggled around on the bed to look at Spencer closer.

'Do your hands hurt?' He asked him.

Spencer looked puzzled and wriggled his hands. 'They're not very comfortable… no.'

'Sure… but do they feel like you've broken your fingers? What about your feet?'

A slow shake of the head. 'My wrists ache. My feet keep getting cramp.'

Floyd nodded. 'In that case… Spence, if I let you go will you go running off to someone else?'

Oh he'd love to! 'What's wrong?'

'No, babes… will you? Can I trust you? Something is wrong… I need to go sort it out. I'd have liked your assistance.'

Spencer raised both of his eyebrows and then narrowed his eyes. 'What's wrong?'

Floyd looked down at his hands again and then wriggled his toes. 'If I explain you're going to go have a kiddie tantrum on me again. You know if you hit me again I'll have to kill you, don't you? If you really want to leave… again I'll have to… It's not something I can really avoid, you see? I cant have you taking comfort in the arms of someone else. It's just not on my agenda and my agenda is pretty open to changes, but not that one. You get my drift? It's not something I want to do Spence, but thinking of you with someone else would break something in side of me and I'd go _perfectly_ insane. Don't misunderstand me, it's not love. I don't think it is. It's possessive jealousy. Not a handsome trait for anyone to have, but it's something I drag behind me like an old… an old… I dunno, something old you drag behind you… a stink maybe… something rotten. But hey… it's part of my charm don't you think? What I'm saying is that I'm going to release you. I'm going to trust you'll not run out on me and I'm going to kill you if you break my trust.'

'And will you explain to me what's going on?'

'Probably, maybe not. I've not decided yet. There's a possibility that I would be best leaving you like that whilst I explain this complicated situation. I don't want you throwing vases or coffee mugs at me.'

'Is this about Sam?' Spencer whispered.

Floyd nodded. 'Yup.'

'Then you'd best leave me like this whilst you explain.' There was no hint of a joke in Spencer's voice.


	5. Chapter 5

5

'There's this thing.' Floyd said. 'When Sam's hurt I can sometimes feel his pain… it's like, uh… telepathy… like twins sometimes have, you know?'

Spencer nodded. 'I know.'

'Well my hands feel like someone has been stamping on them. My fingers feel like I've had my nails pulled out. My chest is fucking agony, not that I like to complain and my damned feet… well I've not checked them yet, but my fingers are bleeding and I'm guessing my feet are too. I keep getting horrific stomach pains. Not like when you have the shits, but like something has torn into it. It's hard to explain, babes.'

'Don't call me babes. You don't half kill someone then call them a pet name.' Spencer snapped at him. 'You think Sam is hurt?'

'Fuck… I think he's being hurt as I natter to you and get your complaints on what I call you. Does it matter? Sam's not been back to his place for two nights. Not since he went off to see Hotchner.'

Spencer's eyes narrowed further. He didn't want to hear more of this. It wasn't going to end well, not for either of them. He didn't want to hear Floyd's worry for Sam whilst he himself was beaten and tied to a bed. 'Untie me.' He grumbled. Floyd had stood and was pacing around the bedroom. 'Floyd! Untie me! I'm not going to run off. I can contact Hotch though and ask if he knows anything.'

Floyd licked at his lips and spun on Spencer. 'Who would hurt my boy like that Spence?'

Oh Spencer imagined most anyone who met Sam would want to hurt him. Hurt him bad. 'I cant imagine.' He said. 'But I cant help you if I'm tied here. Release me and I can help you calm down. You think better when you're calm. And I need a pee.'

'I'm gonna go ask questions – I've got a feeling I know who this is.' Floyd started to walk towards the door.

'Floyd! Please, untie me first. If someone has Sam and if you think you know who, then maybe I can help. You have to release me first.' He really didn't want Floyd running off looking for Sam and forgetting he was here tied to the damned bed!'

He turned again to Spencer. His right eye had a funny, lunatic's twitch to it. His mouth was set in a sideways smirk. 'Contact Hotchner.' He moved quickly and pulled Spencer's feet free and then snapped open the cuffs. 'You know I'm mighty pissed off with you. For now this thing with Sam is pissing me off even more. Seems it's your lucky day. Clean up here, have piss, whatever you need and call Hotch. Ask if he's seen Sam. I'll… I'll… make coffee?' He started to walk away. 'You've got to make me a promise Spencer. You've got to make me a helluva big promise and you know how a promise will feel to me as though you've made a legal and binding contract? Will you do that?'

Spencer sat on the side of the bed rubbing at his sore wrists and rubbing his feet together. He hurt all over, but the tingling in his hands and feet was managing to distract him from his sore throat and bruised ribs. 'I'm making no promises unless I know what I'm agreeing to. I accept that you consider them binding, but if I was going to sign a contract I'd be permitted to read the small print first.'

Floyd sat back down on the bed and took Spencer's hands in his. He rubbed the back of Reid's hands with his thumbs. 'Sam is a bit of a tosser but he's been well trained in hand to hand. He's pretty fucking dangerous if you really want to know. I've noted also that his upper arms have these rather sexy little muscles in them. He's growing up. He's a skinny junky little shit, but he's growing.' Spencer said nothing. He really didn't want to hear how wonderful Sam was just now. He watched though the circling thumbs on the back of his hands and though they were for now gentle and maybe even loving hands, Spencer knew it wouldn't last long. 'What I'm trying to say is that if some street mother fucking drug dealing or pimp tried to snatch Sam, then he'd be able to fight back. He'd be very able to defend himself. His appearance is deceptive.'

'I see.' Spencer still didn't take his eyes off those thumbs which were now massaging his tingling hands, but had not too long ago been pressed against his neck hard enough to stop him from breathing.

'I don't think you do.'

'I don't think I know what you mean.' Spencer added.

'He's not been taken by someone like Micky… he's not been taken by some arse dealer.' Now Floyd moved his hands away from Spencer's and he stuck the tips of the fingers on his right hand into his mouth and sucked. He leaned forwards and let his now bloody nose drip onto the floor and he let out a very unFloyd like cry of pain.

'OK I'm going to call Hotch. Lay back and relax.'

Call Hotch? Stupid! But there was no one else. Floyd had made very sure that any friendships he'd made were limited to his imagination. The only person he was allowed to get even slightly close to was Hotchner. So was he calling Hotch as a friend or was this business? It was still early. Aaron might not even be in work yet. Sam might have gone home again. Spencer stood in the bedroom doorway and looked at Floyd. 'What was the promise you needed me to keep?' He asked him.

'Don't leave. Don't answer the door. Stay here… unless you know it's Hotchner. Stay with me… close.'

Spencer nodded slowly. 'There's something out there and that something has Sam?'

'You know.' Floyd told him. 'You know that.'

Well actually, no, he didn't know that, but he was going to have to pretend that he did, or risk a beating again. 'Fine. Unless I'm with you or Hotchner I wont leave the apartment. I wont let anyone in.'

'Promise me.'

'I promise!'

'Now call him.'

o-o-o

'There's a problem. Can you pop into my place on the way to work?'

That had been what Spencer had said to Hotch. Hotchner had asked if that meant that Spencer wasn't coming into work that day and Spencer had told him that as things stood at the moment, that he thought that was rather unlikely. Hotch had asked what the odd sounds were in the background and Spencer had reluctantly informed Hotch that it was Floyd, but that was only part of the problem. He then broached the subject of _Sam_.

'I don't suppose you've seen Sam have you? In the last couple of days?'

The answer was short. 'I'll talk about that when I get there. Are you hurt?'

Oh yes he was hurt! It hurt to stand. It hurt to take deep breaths. He thought maybe Floyd had cracked some of his ribs. His legs kept getting horrific cramps in them and his jaw was swollen. 'No, I'm fine.' He said. Hotch would know otherwise when he arrived, but for now he didn't have to know more than was necessary. 'It's not me who needs help.' For a change… except maybe he _did_ need help. He just wasn't sure if the help he'd receive would do any good. Hotch told him that he would be there within half an hour. The line went dead. That was OK. Hotch was coming.

'The cavalry is on its way?' Floyd asked with a muffled voice as he hunkered down in the bedroom door sucking on his fingers.

'Half an hour… he said…'

'Good.'

'How are you feeling?' Spencer walked slowly towards Floyd. He was hunkered down… but that didn't mean a thing. The man could spring up and be on him all fists and claws before he could blink, but it didn't look like Floyd was going to move from where he was.

'You know that thing I can do?'

Spencer wanted to smile and scream at the same time. _Thing_? What particular thing was Spencer going to have to remember? There were a thousand _things_ ranging from cooking a good meal and making fine coffee, to rape and eating people. It was a broad spectrum. Spencer decided to say nothing. 'That ESP thing… the sending you a message thing.' Floyd elucidated.

Oh _that_ thing! Yes Spencer knew the feeling of that intrusive voice in his head very well. It would arrive at the most inconvenient times and rattle away inside of his skull talking filth whilst he was trying to concentrate on something at work. It would suddenly blast into his head when he was driving, causing him to have to pull over and rest his head on the steering wheel and let the water run from his eyes. He would hear that voice, ordering him to do something, telling him where to go, what to say… who to be… and sometimes Spencer didn't know if it was really Floyd there of if it was his own personal madness creeping in. 'Yes.' He replied. 'Yes I know.'

'Well to do that I have to open up…' Floyd tapped his head, '… in here. And that sometimes brings on risks. I tried to contact Sam. Everything was hunky dory before then… but mother fucker! What the fuck… This is some kind of delayed… uh… thing. What I'm feeling has happened.'

'You thought he was being hurt.'

'He was, but not now… now that I'm able to really think about it… the pain is not going, but it's not increasing. Whoever did it has stopped at least for now, but Sam's closed his own thoughts down. I cant reach him.'

'I think… Maybe I think I understand. How can I help you?'

'By staying close. Within my sight at all times. Don't even take a shit and not let me be there.'

Spencer sighed. 'I can see that we're going to have some interesting times ahead.' He didn't mean that in a good way either!

There was a light tap on the apartment door.

'Hotch.' Spencer said. 'Go clean your teeth or something. Try to look normal or he wont even start to listen to what you're going to tell him.'

That light tap on the apartment door again. Spencer could see Floyd's eyes were watering. He could see that mad twitch of his eye again and the way he had his fists clenched. 'I'll put coffee on.' What else to do? If in doubt, brew some coffee. It seemed to be Floyd's answer to most things when he was trying to look _normal_. Normal people made coffee. Normal people had that fresh homely smell to their homes. Normal people invited friends in and had a chat over a coffee and a few lines. OK maybe not everyone would indulge in the lines, but Floyd seemed to have a basic understanding about how to make things in your home appear as though nothing was going on which shouldn't be. There were no bodies hidden in the closet. No body parts wrapped in tin foil in the refrigerator and nothing slowly rotting behind the newly repaired walls or under the floorboards. No… nothing going on here except for two men… one answering the door to a colleague and one in the kitchen being _normal_.

Spencer opened the door.

Floyd heard a sound, but he was running the cold water tap and sloshing wet over his face and washing blood off his hands at the same time. There was definitely a sound though.

It was like a soft sigh followed by the smallest of… Floyd stood at the sink and turned off the taps. He picked up a towel and wiped it over his face… snapping twigs? Why would he have heard that noise and where the hell had he heard it before. Floyd didn't move. He was trying to think but the pain was sloshing around in his brain trying to stop him from making any form of reasonable decisions.

Spencer opened the door. He smiled. He was expecting Hotch, but that wasn't Hotch looking at him. The man was about the same height as Hotch but this person was certainly not who he had been expecting. Spencer let out the softest of moans. He wanted to scream for Floyd, but there was suddenly something wrapped around his neck and pulling him quickly away from the door. It was over before Spencer had time to think that it had even begun. He was still registering the fact that it wasn't Hotch… and everything was grey, and then a sort of dull red, which quickly turned to a rich sickening purple and then as stars shot across his vision the world went black. He wasn't sure if he was still in the apartment doorway. He didn't know if he had made it all the way to the elevator. But he _did_ know that he knew this person. And he knew that this person was maybe as dangerous as Floyd on a bad day.

Floyd put the towel down and walked out into the hallway. The door was open. Spencer wasn't standing there talking to Hotch. No of course he wasn't. Someone had snatched Sam and now that someone had Spencer too. He thought about running after him. He thought about ripping into the person who had taken Spencer…

So quietly…

Just that sigh…

And that odd snapping sound.

… someone had taken both of his boys…

And he could go running after him and he could fight the bastard and drag Spencer back. Was that what was expected? Did he really think Floyd was that stupid? So… no Floyd didn't go running after Spencer. He sat in the hallway with his legs pulled up tight and his arms resting on his knees and his hands down between his legs and he started a slow head banging session.

Whilst Floyd was (sulking) thinking about what to do next, Hotch was picking himself up off the floor next to where he'd parked his car. He could sort of remember the sound… a sigh? It sounded like a sigh or the sound of… ? He couldn't put his finger on it, but it seemed to be a sound he'd heard in a nightmare or a dream once before. Initially when he opened his eyes he thought he might have been dead, or maybe that he _should_ have been dead. He'd been jumped from behind and smacked on the head before he'd had time to turn to look at the assailant. This really wasn't very good. He checked his pockets. Wallet was gone. Watch was gone… Car was gone, but he seemed to be in Spencer's underground parking area. There were security cameras down here. He'd find out who had done this… and he'd like to point his finger at Flanders. He'd like that very much, even if his gut instinct was telling him that Flanders wouldn't have taken his watch and wallet. Flanders would have taken something else altogether and as Hotch instinctively checked his belt and waistband, everything seemed to be in place.

A random mugging?

Hotch wasn't going to accept that he'd been so unaware of his surroundings that he'd let himself be mugged by some thug. There had to be more to it than that. He rubbed at the back of his head where an egg shaped lump was rising quickly. He had no shame that he'd been floored like he had. It felt like he'd been hit around the head with an iron bar. He managed a staggering walk to the elevator and he was just about able to focus his eyes and find the correct button to press. He had no idea how long he'd been there. It could have just been seconds, but whoever it was had taken his car, so it was probably a bit longer than a few seconds… minutes? Hopefully no longer. He'd check the time with Spencer.

The apartment door was open and Flanders was sitting there on the floor smacking his head on the white wall. Hotch blinked, went to take another step and Floyd looked up at him. 'Don't take… another… step.' He managed to growl. 'Someone, someone took Spencer. Get your little men here and do test and stuff. I need to know who it was.'

Hotch ignored the order from Floyd and walked in. He'd spoken to Spencer not so long ago. He couldn't been _gone_ and if something had happened there would be sign of it in his apartment. 'Someone hit me around the head.' Hotch told him. 'You?'

'Moi? Little old me? Hit big old gun toting you? You're fucking with me Hotchner. No… not me. I was making coffee – as one does when expecting guests – someone knocked on the door. Figured it was you, Spencer opened it and there was that sound… and Spencer was gone!' Floyd snapped his fingers. The noise seemed to startle him.

'What sound?'

'A sighing hiss of a sound. I'm trying to place it. And a snapping.' He snapped his fingers in a double click. 'Not quite that but nearly. But that's not why I wanted you here. Spencer going too is a fucking big coincidence though don't you reckon? I mean the two things have to be connected don't you think?'

A sighing hiss… that had been what Floyd had said. Hotchner swallowed back something which had tried to make its way into his mouth. Something bitter. Something foul. 'Like a sword being drawn?' Hotch asked.

Floyd looked up at Hotchner. 'I was wondering that, but I decided that I was going to ignore that idea. That idea isn't one I wish to have swimming around in my head. So you'll pretend you didn't suggest that. You'll also be wise to not suggest that Taki Otikami has Spencer and probably has Sam too. Because you see if you make that suggestion I might just go bonkers and right now I'm just about as sane as I've ever been. Don't take that from me Aaron. Allow me to have a grip on reality for at least an hour longer. Spencer hit me. Can you believe that? He actually raised a hand and bitch slapped me upside my head. He's got backbone where jelly once festered. For that reason I'm not going to be over concerned that he's been snatched from me when I was probably only ten foot away from him when it happened. I tied him to the bed. I should have left him there. The bastard wouldn't have gotten him so easily if I'd answered the door. You've seen Sam… I know he saw you. He told me he was going back to your place to have a chat or some shit, and he told me he'd get in touch. He hasn't. He's not been home again. He's in pain somewhere… oh… and that all fits with Otikami too… But if you _do_ know where Sam is?' Hotchner was shaking his head though.

'I dropped him off at a bus stop down on the east side. He wouldn't give me his address.'

'He's squatting down in that area. I can show you? If you're interested. But you see now we have this double trouble problem. Sam and Spencer both gone. Who will the BAU be most interested in locating? How long do you think Sam has in the hands of that monster? What sort of chances do you think he has? He's just a confused kid. He's not going to be able to deal with Otikami. Spencer will. Spencer's survival instincts will kick in and he'll know what to do to stay alive. The thing is that all Sam knows is what's between his legs, and maybe now stuck on his chest, but Otikami isn't going to respond to that. Sam's going to be in a whole shit load of trouble… but then again Spencer is a decent up standing citizen with no current drug problem, and he's got a good job and an awesome education… which would you choose to save first… the one who has made something of his life or some poor shit who never had a chance?'

Hotch said nothing. He slid down the wall so that he was facing Flanders and sighed.

'Well I guess that answered my question then. We go looking for Spencer first. I'm cool with that as long as it's you who apologises to Sam. If there's anything left to apologise to.'

'I'll start with making some calls. He took my car.'

'He's a savvy bastard, Hotch. He's not going to drive it back to the location. He'll dump it someplace.'

Hotchner had his phone in his hand. He made a few quick calls. One to Rossi and one to Garcia. One was to tell the team to get to Spencer's place ASAP and the other was for Garcia to locate his car. He also wanted the crime scene people over here. And he wanted to go and check out where Sam was staying, look at security footage in the underground garage and also around the area Sam had been when Hotch last saw him. He wanted to see security images from the lobby, the elevators… everywhere! He had to know where Spencer had been taken. But he wasn't holding up much hope of finding anything. Flanders had a way of not being visible to security cameras and he had a feeling that Sam and this Taki person had the same trick.

'You going to search the apartment for stuff I shouldn't have?'

'Search it for Spencer…'

Floyd nodded. 'You think in the time he called you to now that I managed to dispose of his body somehow?'

Hotch failed to react in any way at all. Yes he believed that. He had doubted Flanders in the past. He'd learnt his lesson.

'There's an illegal firearm in the bedroom. Bottom drawer of the bedside cabinet. Sam had it. I confiscated it. Havent gotten around to handing it in yet. Just don't want to be arrested for it. There's cocaine in a boot… left hand side of the bedroom closet. Some stuff in the kitchen… tea caddy top self middle. That's all I think. You going to arrest me?'

'I need Sam's address. I need to know where Sam went after I left him.'

Now it was Hotch who was looking at that insane twitch to Floyd's eye. 'How long does Sam have? I know you're not the main statistic man on the team, but that dude has gone and done a rather fantastical invisibility act and will be away for the duration. So any sort of clue to a time?' Floyd got to his feet and looked at the kitchen. 'A coffee whilst you wait your buddies?'

A nod. 'Floyd I cant even begin to guess how long we have. If Sam went missing after I dropped him off, then it's been two nights.'

A voice from the kitchen called back to him. 'You don't sound happy about that. Is that a long time?'

'If it was you who had Sam or Spencer, I'd say that we still had plenty of time.'

'Do you think…' He handed Hotch a mug. '… do you think Sam is already dead? Does that fit? He's taken Spencer because he's already finished with Sam? Has he tortured my girly-boy and ripped him apart and let him die? Has he used those little things he uses to ram them behind Sam's fingernails? I was trying to explain this to Spencer… I feel Sam's pain sometimes. I feel his highs and sometimes when the wind is blowing in the right direction I can feel him having lust filled adventures either with someone else or with his hands… I felt like I was going to die earlier… the pain was so great… It was like…' Floyd walked in a tight circle… 'But…' He held out his hands. 'Not even a shake there. No bleeding.'

Hotch sipped his drink. 'We need to wait.'

'My nose.' Floyd announced.

Aaron looked at Floyd expecting to see a nose bleed, but there was nothing. 'Your nose?'

'Isn't bleeding. I could track easily. If we leave now or if they find your vehicle I can track from there. It's not too late.'

'How did Otikami get Spencer away from you?'

To Floyd that voice was fired with accusations. 'He fucking well distracted me! He had me thinking the wrong things and… he… he used Sam to distract me from what he was doing. I had no fucking clue it was _him_. You really think I would have let him answer the door if I had even the faintest clue what was going on? You think I feel that little for Spencer that I'd throw him to the fucking lions so easily? And you're just fucking sitting there like some bag of old shit on my hallway floor and you're accusing me of this shit? Was it not you who Spencer called for help? Don't you fucking for one minute think I had anything to do with this.'

'I never said it was!'

'If you'd been more aware of what was going on and not thinking what a shit I am then you might have seen what was coming when he smacked you on your head, but you were too busy making accusatory thoughts to see what was really going on. It's your damned fault. It should have been you at the damned door! I think I'll go see what I can find on my own, as I'm not being accused of any shit other than being a shit and I knew I was one of those already. I have a feeling that Spencer was the mark… Sam was just a distraction and it seems to have worked. Goodbye for now. I'm off.' Floyd swaggered to the door and turned to look at Hotch who was getting to his feet. 'Stop me!' Floyd shouted at him. 'Try to stop me you son of a bitch!'

'To what end?'

'So I have a fucking excuse to rip your damned throat out!'

'I thought as much. I'll wait for the team to arrive. It would probably be best if you kept out of the way. If Otikami is after you too…'

Floyd snorted a laugh. 'Of course he's after me!'

Hotchner nodded. 'Of course. You are so much more important than Spencer.'

'Don't make me hit you Aaron.'

'Then go. You know how to contact me if you need me.'

'You're just letting me walk out of here? You believe that I didn't do anything to Spence or Sam? Do you even care if I did something to Sam?'

'Go. Go before Morgan arrives.'

'I should, but I feel like splitting my knuckles.' But he did turn. He walked away from the open apartment door and was just going through the door to the stairway when the elevator door pinged and Rossi stepped out with Morgan. They were talking quietly to each other, but Floyd didn't wait around to find out what it was. He guessed they were disrespecting him. He was too busy right now to knock heads together.

It was easy to pick up the smell of Hotchner in the parking bay. That wasn't a problem. Not a bad smell, but just the familiar stench of Agent Aaron Hotchner. It was harder to pick up on the delicate scent of Spencer though and impossible to pick up on Otikami, which might prove to be a problem. Floyd's bike was down here with the helmet clipped to the side. He considered not wearing it, but he didn't want to be picked up or stopped for something so trivial. And anyway, hadn't someone told him once that he looked unbelievably sexy in it? Or was that someone else? Or had he told him he looked like a twat? Or had it had nothing to do with the helm at all? He couldn't rightly remember now! But he wore it anyway. He pushed the visor up though. Cant track with that thing covering his face.

The day was starting off warm which was at least a plus in some respect. At least it wasn't raining. For now Floyd concentrated on following the strongest smell, which was simply that of the car. He followed slowly. No point in rushing. No point in making mistakes. Otikami wasn't some common bit of scum off the street. Otikami carried weapons which would kill Flanders. Otikami was maybe, if you wanted to score points – and Floyd didn't actually – thank you VERY much! No point scoring.

'Shut the fuck up.' He muttered to himself as he breathed in the fumes from the morning traffic.

Otikami was far more professional that Floyd could ever begin to be.

And that bothered him.

o-o-o

Spencer remembered nothing from when he'd opened the door and seen someone who certainly wasn't Hotchner standing there. He remembered how his throat closed up with fear and he remembered that odd sensation of not being able to do anything much at all.

When he next opened his eyes he was laying on his side in a room with light coming from a bulb set into a hole in the ceiling. There was a square of wire mesh covering the opening. He groaned and closed his eyes again. The floor of the room was stone slabs. There appeared to be no window, but there was a sturdy metal door on one of the walls. He made a rough guess that the room was probably approximately fourteen and a half foot square. But he might have been out by a couple of foot. He had a blinding headache and his arms and legs ached for some reason. Spencer was mildly surprised to see that he still had all of his clothes on and nothing had been pushed up or down or moved… he didn't have shoes on, but maybe he'd not had any on in the apartment… Floyd had been there so it was doubtful. Floyd didn't like people having shoes on in the apartment.

Unless you happened to go by the name of Floyd Flanders of course.

Spencer carefully moved his hands over his body picking up on the sore places from where Floyd had battered him, but there didn't seem to be anything else. He checked his arms for needle marks, he gave his feet a close inspection… he ran his hands over his thighs, but there was nowhere which seemed to indicate that he'd had needles stuck into him.

He sat and waited. The walls were whitewashed and flaky in places. The floor had a reddish coloured stone. There was a mattress thrown over in the corner. It appeared to be blood stained and possibly stained from other things too. Other than that the room was empty. Spencer looked up at the yellowing light bulb and sighed. There was nothing he could do for now. He wasn't going to make a big fuss and hammer at the door. It would make no difference. Spencer was sure they – he… that one who carried swords… he was sure that Otikami was watching. Spencer didn't intend to give him anything at all interesting to look at. Spencer decided that he was going to be the most boring prisoner ever taken. He would cause them such distress by being boring that they'd release him. It seemed like a fine plan. At least for now.

He didn't go and inspect the mattress. He wasn't going to be sleeping on it. He would rather sleep standing up than laying down on that thing which seemed to be almost heaving and breathing as though it had a life of its own. Spencer gave an involuntary shudder and then a small squeak of surprise when a sound like bolts being drawn back could be heard the other side of the door. Defensively and without knowing he was doing it, Spencer squashed himself into the corner and wrapped his arms around his shins… it was as though he was pulling his body together as tightly as he could. Maybe the wall would swallow him up and spit him out the other side. Odd as it may seem… He'd had stranger experiences.

Light blasted into the room, firstly in the curved triangular shape of the door and then it just seemed to fall inwards and fill the whole of the room. Spencer thought maybe he made another strange sound which had ripped its way up from somewhere deep inside, but maybe it was his imagination. He also thought for a few seconds that he was crying. He could _hear_ crying and he was the only person here, so surely it was him, but as someone stumbled into the room, or maybe was thrown into the room and fell with a limp wet splatting sound onto the mattress, Spencer realised that it was the other person who was crying.

Spencer tried to look and see who it was at the door, but slowly the overly bright, eye-watering light slid back out of the room and he could hear the sound of the door being locked again. There was the light from the overhead bulb, but for now Spencer still had blotches of white covering his vision, even when he squeezed his eyes closed again and listened to the other person sobbing on the other side of the room. He waited for his eyes to re-adjust to the dimmer light and then pushed himself up to stand. 'Are you all right?' He asked. His voice sounded horribly loud and hollow.

The person on the mattress rolled onto his side and peered across the room. 'Oh fuck. I'm sorry. I'm sorry.'

It wasn't really any surprise to Spencer that it was Sam. And in a way that was good. At least they were together. They could help each other. They already knew each other and Floyd was certain to come and get them. 'Are you hurt?' It was a stupid question and it got a low moan as a reply. Reid walked the few paces over to Sam and knelt on the cold damp floor next to him. 'You don't have to be sorry. It's not your fault.' Spencer loathed this creature, but that didn't mean that he wanted to see him hurting.

'They made me do it.' Sam muttered as he held out his hands. 'They broke my hands. They made me.'

Spencer placed a hand on Sam's shoulder. 'It's all right. Floyd will come for us. And whatever it was they made you do…'

'Betray Floyd.'

There was a while of silence now. The only sound to be heard was a very distant _whirr_ which was maybe some kind of generator or air recycling machine, Sam's sniffing and sobbing and their shuddering breaths. 'I'm sure it's not as bad as you think. Floyd will find us. He's not going to let anything happen to either of us. You know Floyd.' Spencer tried to make light of this horrible situation. 'He doesn't let someone take his things from him.'

'But he will know.' Sam whined. 'They made me distract him so they could take you. That Otikami said that the pair of you were too close and Floyd was keeping you too close. He wanted a distraction… and I tried not to! I tried, but he broke my hands and they kicked me and stuck things down the back of my nails… they were going to cut my boy bits off and stuff them up my girl bits if I didn't do what they told me to do…'

Spencer let out a long sigh. What he would have liked to have done was tell Sam that he was stupid and that Sam was nothing more than a bit of dirt. He would have liked to have stood and jumped up and down on him, but that wasn't Spencer. 'They were torturing you Sam.'

'No fucking kidding! They kept punching me in the tits. Oh my fucking god, you have no idea how much that hurts! Then they eased the pain with something they gave me… then it started over again.'

Spencer sat back and leaned against the wall. 'Did they talk to you? Ask you anything? Do you know what they want?'

'They said that Floyd will know when he gets here and they said that… they said if I don't do what they say I wont get… I wont… they wont let me have stuff for the pain.'

Now Spencer hugged his legs and rested his head on his knees. 'Did they say what they wanted me for?' He asked.

'Yes. They were very clear about that.'

'And?'

'And I'm sorry.'

'So you said. What do they want me for?'

'It's complicated, but… well… They want Floyd to kill you… or something.'

'Ah.' Spencer moaned.

'I'll distract Floyd. Stop him from getting here. I'll do that shall I?' But Sam closed his eyes and fell asleep. At least to Spencer that's what it looked like he was doing. A good chance to wring his neck? Probably the best he'll get. He looked over at Sam and wiped a bit of stray hair off his face.

Well this was going to be great fun. Spencer could feel that in his water.


	6. Chapter 6

6

Spencer sat on a chair in the middle of another room. A bigger room. A room full of happy and interesting people. Otikami was talking to him. He wasn't shouting or being abusive; he was sitting facing him, dressed in combat pants and a Tshirt. His hands were resting on his lap. Spencer's hands were twisting and fidgeting on his.

'Are you listening to me Spencer?'

A slow nod.

'Well that's a start isn't it? You saw the mess that creature Sam was in didn't you? We let you see that. We thought, or rather I thought, that it would be wise to let you see what happens to someone when you don't do what you're told to do.'

Spencer looked at the oriental man sitting opposite him. Otikami was smiling. A broad white toothed smile. His hair was long and tied up in a pony tail high on his head.

'I am going to allow Sam to stay in the same room as you. A bit of company never hurt anyone. He's a whiny brat though isn't he? Especially when he knows I have something he wants so badly. Silly, very silly getting hooked on narcotics… don't you agree, Spencer?'

Reid slowly nodded again. 'Yes.' His voice was hoarse and rough. He was thirsty. It felt like he'd been swallowing sand.

'But you went and got hooked yourself, so I'm sure that you can understand, or at the very least acknowledge that Sam needs that escape. He's hurting so much! The poor thing. I broke his hands. I used a hammer on them. Oh how he screamed. It would have made your eyes water, Spencer. Really it would. I've hurt his feet too, but not like I have his hands. I want him to be able to walk, you see? I want him to remain pretty too, so I'll leave his face alone.

'I've been informed that Floyd has been experimenting with cunny! Now I never would have believed that and indeed I didn't. I told Sam that he was a filthy liar and showed him… with my hammer what happened to liars, but he was insistent. What do you think, Spencer. Has Floyd been dipping his dirty wick into that sweet little dog of his? I mean into those new little bits. What do you think?'

Spencer said nothing but didn't take his eyes of Otikami. His silence was a good enough answer though it seemed.

'I see! Well all that pain for nothing then! The dog was telling the truth.' And another grin. 'It really is an amazing turn of events, but I don't think it's going to ultimately change the game. I don't have the same needs in life as our friend Floyd does. He controls by random violence and his supposed _love_ of things. I'm far more calculating. More in control of things. I'm not saying he's not dangerous, because I know he is, but I am saying that this is going to end up very messy for him.'

A slight nod again from Spencer as he tried to decide whether talking to this man was going to have any effect on the end result. He thought not. At least for now that's how he thought. Spencer was going to stay silent for as long as he could.

'My _thing_, if you can call it that, the thing which drives me and gives me pleasure is cold, hard, sharp… pain. I adore it. Not my own… understand that. I don't like being in screaming agony but I do love to see others in it. Sam being a good example because dogs like Sam are so easy to manipulate. You're going to be a harder egg to crack.'

'Killing Sam wont get you what you want.' Spencer informed Taki.

'Kill him? Oh no! I'm not going to kill the thing. Far from it! I need him alive! I don't particularly need him healthy or even awake, but alive is something I intend to keep him. The option, Spencer is always there… you know?'

Spencer said the word… 'no' … but no sound came out of his mouth. Otikami understood all the same.

'Well you can top the little bastard! Do that and then all the pieces will get reset and the game will start over.' Otikami cracked his knuckles. 'He tried to take your boyfriend – the great lover… the one people will be writing poetry about in the years to come… the great Floyd Flanders! He attempted to get him off of you. Didn't work, but I didn't give him enough time really. He was getting there though! He actually got that creep to stuff him up his cunny! I must admit that this is something I'm still finding hard to believe. I am somewhat disappointed in Flanders for doing that. I thought he was a die hard queer, but apparently not. He obviously just needed a perfect little cunny… and that's something you'll never be able to provide for him Spencer. Not for as long as you live! You'll never be able to delight Floyd the way that dog can. I'll let you go back to your room for a while. I need to talk to the dog for a bit. I expect he's climbing the walls by now. He's quite a baby when it comes to pain.'

'He's…'

Otikami leaned forwards and put a finger on Spencer's lips. 'Hush. No excuses. Just go back to your room and remember. And consider what I've said. Flanders will arrive eventually, but I'm prepared for that. I want that. I need that. But you dear thing need to know that every word said, every movement made… every twitch and blink and scratch… it's all being watched. And before you go back to your room I'm going to tell you what I want you to do.' Spencer gave a small nod. 'Good lad, I want you to watch Sam. But if you touch him, I will, or one of my little buddies here, will be in that room in a flash and Sam will be horribly hurt. You keep your hands to yourself. You wont talk to him. You'll give that dog no comfort. I want him to feel rejected. I want him to know that he's the bottom of the shit pile. Not for any real reason. I don't think it will change the end game at all… not really, but I do love to see something hurt… physically and emotionally. You'll offer him nothing. Do you understand me?'

Again a small nod.

'Good!' Again Otikami cracked his knuckles. 'When you get back to your little room they'll provide you with water and food, and a piss and shitting bucket. There will be another mattress provided and some blankets. It gets cold in there at night. Try not to eat and drink everything at once. I don't know when I'll have the time to feed you again. Much will depend on how long we can play our little game with Flanders and that will all depend on how long Sam can keep his sanity. Sleep well friend. I think this is going to be fun!'

o-o-o

Floyd soon found Hotchner's car. It was really quite easy. It was pulled over in a parking bay outside a shop selling every type of donut you could ever conceivably think of. The problem was… actually there was more than one problem at this point… but one of them was that the cops had also located the car. Very easily. Too easy. They were standing there looking very pleased with themselves and it didn't seem to Floyd that now would be the best time to go over there and start sniffing the car seats or crawling around on the ground trying to pick up on Spencer. Another problem was that Floyd now had a very good idea that Spencer hadn't been in that car anyway. He was sure that he'd be able to pick up on the panicked scent. There would be fear clogging the air. There would be _something_, but from where he sat astride the bike there didn't seem to be a damned thing. Another problem was the now constant whining in his head. It was like a white noise of buzzing self pity, which Floyd knew wasn't him… it was Sam… Somehow Sam had prodded and tuned in and was sending out a distress signal.

The car though? Floyd was of the thought now that it was just something to get him off track for a while. He should have known. He should have realised that back in the underground parking lot. He should have thought that Otikami would have actually arrived in his own vehicle. Someone else had driven Hotchner's car out here.

Floyd manoeuvred the bike to the kerb to attempt to have a bit of a think. Should he go back? Should he carry on?

'Sam… give it a break will you?' He removed his helmet and rubbed at the side of his head. 'Just back the _fuck_ off! I cant think! I cant fucking _think_!'

The cops looked over at him. He'd been shouting… shouting for Sam to shut up… He thought he'd been talking inside his own head, but it seemed not and now, oh delight of delights a couple of cops were walking over towards him.

'Put the bone dome back on and get the fuck out…'

_It hurts so much! _

_ Floyd!_

_ Oh my fucking god! Help me!_

Whine, moan… 'Shut up Sam!' He could feel his heart hammering in his chest. His nose was tingling with the expected arrival of a mother of a nose bleed and a cop was talking to him.

'Is everything all right?'

'Hhhmm.' Floyd replied, using every bit of will power not to do something very naughty to the cop as he stood there in a uniform which smelt of man sweat and washing powder and sex. Flanders rubbed at his nose.

'Do you mind stepping off the bike for a moment?'

Oh this was all going to shit so fast!

_Floyd help me!_

_ Come and get me!_

_ He's going to kill me!_

_ Floyd I'm sorry!_

_ Stay… stay… AWAY_!

The last little bit was accompanied by such intense pain that Floyd _did_ get off the bike, sideways… onto the road with his fists pressing onto the side of his head… shouting… 'Make him shut up! Make it go away!'

At first they thought Flanders was drunk and then they thought he was under the influence of drugs and then they decided that the man was having some kind of psychotic episode. He was howling about a voice and telling it to shut up. He was screaming about pain. They stepped back and looked at the man now hunkered down in the road screaming obscene words to someone who didn't seem to be there. It wasn't even clear to them if the man knew that he was being spoken to… gently… They found his papers. They had a name. They then called for an ambulance. The drunk tank wasn't the place this person needed to be. Some locked up psychiatric ward was though. The hospital could sort that out. Traffic was stopped. People who had crowded around the odd scene were told to move on.

'The man is sick.' They were told.

It was a scene of total chaos which Morgan and Rossi turned up to. They'd come to make sure that the car was towed. That there were not body parts in it. It was to go back to the lab and be tested for pints and traces of other things which shouldn't have been there. As they arrived, ducking under some hastily strung up crime scene tape they noted an ambulance. They could see people running around in some kind of panic. It didn't look good. It looked even worse when Morgan pointed out Floyd's bike.

'What has he done now?' Rossi asked himself. There was no answer because the question had been rhetorical anyway. There was no way to start guessing what Flanders had done. Images of ripped up people shot through the heads of both Agents, who walked forwards flashing badges and introducing themselves.

They stood and looked at the top of the heads which were attached (at least that was a blessing) to the medics trying to make sense of what Floyd was trying to tell them, but his words were a low muttered growl now.

'I know him.' Rossi reluctantly announced. Morgan didn't. Morgan would rather let them think that he had no connection with the monster. 'I'll try to talk to him.' He moved in next to a medic who was about to shoot some strong medication into Floyd's arm. 'Floyd, it's Dave. What's going on?'

'The motherfucking cunt.' Floyd replied. 'I don't know how to stop it. Get him out of my head, Dave. Do something. Shoot me. Take my brain out with a rocket launcher… just for the love of fuck make it stop!' And he drooled and spat and tried to shake off the medic. He snapped his teeth together and said that his back… 'It's my back… fuck the goats… fuck them Rossi!'

Goats? Dave looked up at Derek who gave a small head shake. The medic rubbed an antiseptic wipe on Floyd's arm. 'They're going to make you more comfortable.' Dave said.

'Fuck comfort! Make them stop. Help them! Stop them… Get them out of my head!'

Rossi stood and gave the medic a small _go ahead_ wave with his hand. 'You'll need a lot. The man doesn't react to sedation in the way you'd expect. I advise that you strap him down.'

They then turned their attention to Hotch's car, which didn't have anything obviously wrong with it. They prepared it to be towed to the lab. Morgan watched Flanders being loaded into an ambulance and raised an eyebrow at it. Floyd was laying still, but he didn't think it was going to last very long. He made a rough guess of the chances that the ambulance would actually make it all the way to the hospital. Morgan even wondered if he should go too, but didn't fancy being the one there when Floyd opened his eyes again. No point in making misery where misery wasn't needed.

A hand touched Morgan's elbow. 'What are you thinking?' Rossi asked him.

'I don't know, man.' Derek rubbed at his bald head. 'I don't think he has anything to do with Reid going missing though. However much I'd like to pin that on him.' He stood looking at the disappearing flashing blue lights and then turned to Dave. 'He hears voices.' He reminded Rossi. 'It's no secret. He's never been fully sane.'

'So you think Reid going missing has flipped him over the edge?'

'Not much of an edge I don't think. More like he was suspended in limbo waiting for the right wind to catch him.'

'I've got an address for where Sam was staying.'

Morgan nodded and looked at Floyd's bike and the helm laying on the road. 'What confuses me, Rossi, is that he apparently tracked the car… with a helm. Now that might not seem so strange, but I've seen that man on his bike quite a few times and I've never seen him wear a helm. He arrived here and removed it… dropped it to the ground. Then the cops say he clutched his head and started screaming for someone to shut up.'

They decided that they would check out Sam's place first and then go to the hospital and check up on Flanders. Morgan drove and Dave filled Hotch in on what was going on. The cops were going to question people. Had anyone seen the car being parked up? Who had been driving? Which way did they go? All the usual.

o-o-o

They didn't bother crawling through the broken rear window. They pulled off the boards covering the front door of the place Sam had been living and broke down the rotting door. Both Morgan and Rossi pulled a face at the smell wafting out of the place. If they'd not seen worse and been to worse abodes in the course of their job, they might have assumed that they'd been given the wrong address, but no, not these two. They'd seen worse than this rotting almost forgotten place before.

The door opened straight into a small open lounge and kitchen. It looked as though many years ago someone had been here. Writing was now faded, but spray painted and written on the walls. At first glance it just looked like a muddle of words, but a few minutes inspection let them see that it was actually a very old poem. A long one… Some words written on top of others. Some in large fancy scrawl and others in small neat handwriting which looked as though it had been done with a fine marker pen… Parts of it had been illustrated…

"Much wine had passed, with grave discourse  
>Of who fucks who, and who does worse<br>(Such as you usually do hear  
>From those that diet at the Bear),<br>When I, who still take care to see  
>Drunkenness relieved by lechery…"<p>

It went on… the whole of the poem was there in some form or another in scattered parts in different colours which seemed in an odd way to reflect the mood of the author. Morgan and Rossi exchanged glances. It must have been there on that wall for well over a decade. This wasn't the insane work of Sam and probably not that of Flanders either. A coincidence that Sam was staying in a place which was celebrating the words of this poet? Neither of them thought so. The kitchen didn't look as though it had been used recently. Animal detritus was scattered in the form of small bones, and droppings across the chipped Formica work tops. There was a gap where there had once been a stove. The faucets were snapped off and one lay covered in years of muck on the floor in front of one of the dirty white cupboard fronts. They looked at all of this but didn't speak. If Sam had been here he'd not used this room. A long ago smashed window looked over the rear of the property. There were boot prints on the sill and recent scuff marks on the edge of the work surface.

'The way in?' Morgan pointed out.

Rossi nodded. 'It looks that way. We can check out that rear yard once we've been over the rest of this place.'

A nod of assent and they carried on. The first door they went through was into a small box room. It was completely empty. Not even carpet on the floor or curtains at the window. A bit of wire hung from the middle of the ceiling. It probably once had a light fitting attached, but that was long gone. Morgan swung his flashlight around into the shadows. Scrape marks on the floor, but from a long time ago. The next room was what had once been a bathroom. The tub had a red rusty stain in the bottom along with quite a lot of dead spiders and dried out mouse carcasses. The wash basin was smashed, but the toilet still stood. Rossi had a quick look and backed away swiftly.

'Well someone has been using this.' He put a hand to his mouth. 'I don't think there's running water though.'

Morgan didn't need to look too. He could well imagine the mess down there.

The next room was the one Sam had been sleeping in and it was obvious immediately that someone had been here. There was the mattress for a start, a bit of torn blanket, what could have at one time passed as a pillow and a scattering of clothes over the floor. Sam's backpack had been emptied out. There were very obvious signs of drug use in this room. Bits of yellowish brown stained tin foil, a couple of old straws, a small mirror, razor blades, needles, matches, a candle laying on its side under the window… no actual drugs… there was also bullets laying around and a note sitting folded on the bed. Dave already had on a pair of gloves and Derek was pulling out an evidence bag as Dave leaned over and picked up the note. It had been written on by two different people. One person had written _Call Me_ and then written down a telephone number… one which Morgan recognised instantly… another person had added to the noted… _I don't think your little cunt boy is going to be calling anyone soon_… and it was finished with a couple of _XX_ and then…

_Isshou no Tomodachi_.

'Interesting.' Morgan muttered. 'We need the crime lab to go over this place.

'Sam wouldn't have left it in this much of a mess. I don't know the lad as well as Hotch, but this is wrong.' He tapped the note which was now secured in a bag. 'This is wrong too… it's not looking good. I don't think this is the work of Flanders.'

'I don't think Flanders has enough brain cells working to find his way back here again.'

'Which in it self is a problem.' Rossi started to walk back out of the room again.

'The kid was living in squalor.' Morgan said. 'That bastard Flanders has money coming out of his ears and the creep didn't think to give the kid somewhere safe to live. You know, Dave sometimes I think I have that guy all figured out. He loves his luxuries. He loves to keep those he wants close… then this shit… it throws me off again and whatever I thought of him is blown out the window. It's as though he can feel us making sense of it all so he goes and throws us a curve ball to keep us on our toes. Or does he just not see it? Cant he see this as we see it?'

Rossi shook his head. 'Right now trying to figure out why Flanders will do something one day and not the next is the least of our problems. We need to know who this note is from…'

'And why it has Reid's landline number on it. I guess the note was from Flanders and meant for Sam, but was somehow intercepted before the kid got to see it. Tomodachi? That's familiar. A greeting?'

'Isshou no Tomodachi…' Rossi muttered. 'Friends Forever.'

'Great.' Derek sighed. He was glad he didn't have friends like that.

o-o-o

Sam didn't _want_ to do it. He told Taki that he shouldn't… then he told him that he couldn't do it. It was impossible. If Floyd had closed off his end then Sam couldn't contact him. It was how it worked.

And so they bent back his broken fingers and listened to his screams. Someone grabbed hold of one of Sam's feet and Otikami pulled long slender very sharp bits of wire out of his little work box and he explained something to Sam.

'This will hurt.'

It was a short explanation but he thought Sam could only take in tiny bits of information at a time.

'The salt I will rub into your feet afterwards will hurt even more…'

'I don't know how to do it! You can skin me alive and I'll still not know how to do it!'

The small razor sharp bit of wire was dropped to the floor. 'Skin you alive?' Taki patted the side of Sam's face. 'Why didn't I think of that earlier? Inside lower arms to start off with. Just a little bit though; I'm not as skilled with skinning as Floyd is. He's quite the master. It's not really my thing, but I'm sure that Floyd will like that I tried. What do you think dog?'

Sam curled his toes and looked down at the bit of wire. 'I don't know how to do it.'

'Betray someone once and let it be called a grave error in judgement. Betray that person again and… well… at least you'll die eventually.' Taki smiled at Sam. 'I like your face and I think I'm going to have a taste of what's hidden between your legs, but I think I want to hurt you first. It makes me hard. It makes me _so_ hard Sam… just thinking about it! Cant you see?' Otikami rubbed a hand over the front of his combats. 'So let's get to it! Skinning knife someone please!'

Spencer could hear Sam screaming.

He rolled over on his nice clean dry mattress and wrapped his arms around his head. He had to stay aware of what was going on. There was nothing he could do to help Sam. The best he could do was to stay mentally alert and do what he was asked to do. He was trying to work out what sort of place this was. It was brick built and it was obviously in an area where Sam's screaming… Oh god that scream… couldn't be heard…

'What are they doing to him?' Spencer whispered to himself. He sat up and looked at the door and wished it would open. At least then the screaming would stop and Spencer could beg… yes he would beg… he could beg them to not do that again. No living creature… human or dog should have to go through that sort of pain.

Spencer didn't think it was a warehouse. The place didn't have that echo to it… not the right sort of smells. These rooms were too small for storage and so he figured it was a house… somewhere alone. Maybe an old farm?

Reid decided to do something he'd not done for a long time and didn't even know if he could still do it or if Floyd would even realise that he was trying, but as he lay there and listened to Sam he closed his eyes tightly and sent out a message…. _Floyd? _

He didn't get any further. The pain shot through his head like someone had just smacked him with a pickaxe or stuffed an ice pick in his ear. It was followed by a minute of high pitched whistling in both ears which made his eyes water and his toes curl and then the door flew open. Spencer regarded the form standing there with all the contempt he deserved. He took in the blood on Taki's hands and he took in the smear of blood across his face. Spencer had no doubts that it was all Sam's.

'That was very stupid.' Otikami said with a smile on his face.

Spencer feigned ignorance and shook his head. The whistling was still there but had died into the background slightly. 'I don't know what you're talking about.'

'Contact with Flanders is strictly against the rules. Very much so.' Otikami took a step into the room. 'Get on your knees.' Spencer didn't move. He remained on his mattress and looked Otikami in the eyes.

'No.'

'Then I'm going to have to hurt your friend.'

Reid sucked in a sharp breath between his teeth and hoped that he was saying the right thing. 'Sam is not my friend.'

'Get – on – your – knees!' Another step forwards.

'No.'

'You will do as I say or I will deliver your friend so much pain you'll have nightmares for the rest of your damned life!'

'No. He's not my friend.'

'Why do you have to fuck me around? Why cant you just do as I damned well tell you to do? You know I'm going to cause you such pain that you'll wish you were dead, don't you? You know what I can do to you! Why are you fucking with me Spencer?'

Reid got to his feet and held his chin up. If he was going to die, it wasn't going to be on his knees. 'There was a time when I thought we had an understanding. When I felt this huge guilt over what happened to you. I begged that you were assisted before me. I actually liked you. I don't know what happened between then and the next time we encountered each other, but you're a far cry from the man who risked his life for me. The man who defied his own people to help me. What happened to that man Taki? What happened to his self respect?'

'My self respect?' A small laugh came from the back of his throat. 'My self respect bled out into the snow, Spencer. The person who led you through the snow died in that snow. He doesn't exist any more.'

Spencer now took a step forwards. 'Of course he does. You just don't want to admit it. You're better than this Taki. I know you are. You don't have to do what you're doing.'

'I do. Oh I do. Much as I hate to disappoint you Spencer, but I am actually a well trained dealer of pain and suffering. I enjoy it. It's why I'm so damned good at it. I might have had a weakness for your pretty face once, but that's ancient history boy. Ancient. Many things have happened since that time. And those things change a man.'

'Let Sam go. If you want to hurt Floyd then do it via me. You don't have to hurt Sam.'

'Again… you're wrong. I do.'

'Is it something personal? You can at least tell me that. I know you have no intention of releasing me. You're in no hurry for Floyd to get here, otherwise you'd not have been bothered that I tried to contact him. You intend to keep hurting Sam to hurt me? To hurt Floyd? I'm not sure what it is you're trying to do here. If it was for Sam and I to bond I would maybe understand that.' He took two more steps towards Taki. 'But you said I'm not to talk to him or comfort him.' He lifted a hand and rested it on Taki's arm. 'What is it you want? What is your goal? Is it petty vengeance? Is there something else?'

Taki looked down at Spencer's hand and then up into his face. 'I'm under contract. I don't break them… not since that time… never again.' He shook his head. 'The matter of the contract though is my business. I will tell you only that it will end in Sam walking away from here and you and Flanders being dead. How that goes about happening you don't need to know.'

Spencer gripped Taki's arm with his fingers. 'If Sam is to survive this you could release him? Keep me here. Hurt me.'

'No.' Taki pulled Spencer's hand off his arm. 'That's not in the contract you see. Or maybe I could be persuaded.'

'You can change the contract? Speak to them and ask?'

'Not possible.' A sharp intake of breath. 'I'm not like Flanders. I don't succumb to touching and… Are you offering yourself to me?'

'Let Sam go and I'll do whatever you want. I'll be on my knees day and night. I'll…'

'No… it cant be done. Don't contact him again.' Taki moved back so that he was standing outside the room. 'I know you care for the boy. Why else would you request I let him go?'

'So that…'

'NO!' The door slammed in Spencer's face.

In a way he'd won that round. He'd not gone to his knees for the man and he'd not been hurt by him. Spencer didn't like what he was thinking he would have to do, but as Taki said… he was going to die anyway… die trying to get Sam out of here or let the pair of them die together. Which was the noblest thing to do?

Try to save Sam?

Or betray Floyd?

Spencer dropped back to his mattress and pressed the heel of his hands against his eyes. The whistling in his ears had stopped now, but he wasn't going to risk another go at contacting Floyd yet. He did have to think carefully though. Very carefully. He pulled his blanket up around his shoulders and closed his eyes. Thinking how to go about getting Sam out was almost impossible at least until Sam was back in the room and Spencer could try to fit everything together.

Sam was thrown bodily back into the room with out a word about half an hour later. Spencer looked over to him, just to make sure that he was alive and on seeing his chest heave in and out, and seeing that Sam's red jeans were around his knees, he looked away again and put his back to him. He would attempt the play Taki's game if Sam would let him, but Spencer had a bad feeling about this.

'Spencer?'

He heard Sam calling his name and ignored it…

'Spencer please, I need help.'

Reid turned to look at Sam who was sitting on the edge of his mattress. Something red and shiny had been wrapped around his arms… his wrists were resting on his knees with his hands suspended in front of him. Spencer sighed and started to turn away again.

'Spencer, I cant use my hands. They broke my fingers. I cant pull my jeans up. I need some help here.'

Again Spencer turned to look at him. 'I cant.' He whispered. Though he knew they would hear anyway. 'Just lay down and try to sleep.' Reid again turned his back on Sam. He could hear small Sam type whimpering and a shuffling sound and a few minutes later Sam spoke again. He was much closer now. He was kneeling next to Reid's bed.

'Please. Can you help me with my jeans and pull my fingers out straight again?'

Spencer didn't move.

'What the hell's wrong with you? I'm half dying here and you wont even look at me. I'd help you if you'd been hurt like this.' A small pause and Spencer could feel Sam trying to clamber up onto the mattress next to him.

Reid turned. Put a hand on Sam's chest and pushed him away. 'Keep away from me. Just stay away.'

Sam dropped back on his butt on the stone floor with a yelp. 'What did I do wrong?'

Spencer raised an eyebrow at him. 'Just go away.' And _again_ but with reluctance he turned away from Sam. He then lay there with his eyes open listening to a whining whimpering Sam move away again. He couldn't pick out any actual words, but they didn't have to be for Spencer to know what Sam was thinking.

A cracking sound from Sam's mattress caused Spencer to turn and look. Sam was sitting, still with his jeans around his knees but he had his fingers of his left hand under one of his feet and was carefully treading down.

'Sam! Stop it. Just stop.' Spencer got to his feet and strode over to Sam. 'Get your fingers out of there and stand up.' Sam obliged and as he stood Spencer pulled Sam's jeans back into place. He buttoned the fly and did up the waistband. It was a mistake. He knew it was a mistake, but he couldn't leave Sam trying to pull his own fingers back into place and he couldn't leave him half dressed. As Spencer had pulled on the fabric of the jeans it hadn't gone un-noticed that Sam had sticky blood on his inner thighs. He could also see that the wet red stuff on Sam's arms was blood covered with plastic wrap. 'What happened to your arms?'

Sam looked mournfully down at them. 'They were going to skin me. They had all the stuff out and when they saw all the scars they changed their minds and just used some kind of cheese grater on them.' Sam looked at the mess as though the arms belonged to someone else. 'They did some other stuff too, but I guess you're not interested.'

Spencer said nothing but looked in horror at the state of Sam's arms. 'Show me your hands. I'll see what I can do. You'd best sit down.'

Sam did as he was asked and Spencer carefully tried to manipulate just one of Sam's fingers back into some kind of alignment. Sam made a funny gurgling noise at the back of his throat and when Spencer looked up Sam's eyes rolled back and he passed out. Spencer sighed. He'd broken the rules by talking to Sam. There was little point in doing half the job. He lifted Sam carefully off his disgusting mattress and took him back to the dry warmth of his own sleeping area. He pushed Sam over so that he was facing the wall and then Spencer lay down next to him and wrapped arms around him. It wasn't the most sensible thing to do considering what he'd been told, but if Taki didn't want Sam dead… Well give the boy a bit of comfort.

o-o-o

It was at around this time that Floyd woke up. He woke up screaming and pulling on the restraints. He woke up with foul words and threats on his lips. He made unreasonable demands. 'Let me go you fucking cunt whore dogs or I'll bite your damned syphilitic pricks off!' And such like.

It was requested that he calmed down. Everything was going to be fine. They would help him, but he had to remain calm and stop the bad language. Floyd informed them that they'd taken him prisoner and he'd use what fucking language he felt was needed. But he _did_ calm slightly. Not because they asked him to, but because he was told if he didn't they'd have to turn the visitors away.

He had visitors! 'Oh well visitors huh? I'd best be a good boy then.' He smiled. It was the sort of smile quite a few people saw just before they died.

Hotchner was there. That was fine. Floyd could deal with Hotchner. He felt that the man was finally not so much of a threat as a comrade. Someone he could rely on to poke his nose in where it wasn't wanted, but that had its uses. 'Flanders.' The greeting didn't contain the excited bubble of someone who wanted to be there. Hotch sat in a red plastic chair at Floyd's side.

'Hotchner.' Equally that happy bubble wasn't to be heard. 'Why am I strapped down and being treated like an animal. I need to be out there looking for them.'

Hotch nodded. 'That's why I'm here. Can you remember what happened when you went out on your bike?'

'Fuck yes! Voices. Screaming in my damned head. Sam screaming at me. Never felt something so intense. I think he was drugged to be able to get through like that. It's bothersome though Aaron. He got through my defences. They're there for a good reason you see? Once a hole is made anyone can get through. Otikami likely knows everything I'm doing. That sir is a problem. I need time to lock down again and…' He pulled at the restraints. '… and get my head in order. Take these fuckers off me. I cant even scratch my balls and no other bitch will do it for me.' A raised questioning eyebrow at Hotch.

Aaron leaned forwards resting his elbows on his knees. 'How much do you know? How much of this was your doing?'

'Well none of it actually. Not a fucking thing! I was playing games with Sam is all. Nothing fucked up like this shit. He's a dangerous bastard Aaron. Dangerous as fucking hell. Him and I, we don't work for the same team. My boss is far more… erm… lenient on me that Otikami's would ever be on him. I'm still alive. That's odd don't you think? He could have taken me at the apartment. He could have taken Spencer's head and waltzed into the kitchen and had mine too. I'd not even had known it had happened… I was a fucking easy mark, Aaron and that's a bother don't you think? I'm not sure he wants me actually dead. He wants something else.'

It was always about Flanders.

It didn't even cross his mind that it might not have anything to do with him. It might be Spencer or Sam, Otikami wanted.

'I'll talk to the medical staff here, but all the time you're behaving like a murderous maniac… well the straps are going to stay in place.'

'Even if I'm helping the Feds?'

'I'll go see.' Hotchner stood up and gave Floyd another quick look. He looked pale and sick. He didn't look like the dangerous killer Hotch knew him to be. He'd also taken mental note that Floyd was calling him Aaron.

'Wont work on me.' Hotch muttered as he left the room.

o-o-o

Taki Otikami watched with what could have looked like annoyance. He sat watching the monitor which was displaying the room Spencer and Sam were in. He ran a lazy finger over the image and sighed. 'No… I told you not to do that.' Slowly he stood, cracked his knuckles and walked down a corridor towards the room with the secure metal door. He rested one of his hands on it and with a groan ran his right hand over the front of his combats.

**a/n: Poem: A Ramble in St. James's Park ~ John Wilmot. **


	7. Chapter 7

7

The first Spencer knew that Taki was in the room was having the blankets ripped away and a fingers twisting in his hair. He Tried to keep a hold onto Sam as he was dragged back off the bed in what would have been silence if it wasn't for his own yelps of pain and surprise. Spencer opened his eyes just in time to see feel the back of Otikami's hand crack across the side of his face and the fingers release his hair. Spencer rocked back and smacked his had on the wall bringing stars to his eyes. Still Taki hadn't spoken, but for Spencer there was no need. He knew what he'd done _wrong_. He'd been warned what would happen.

As he tried to find his feet and get up off the floor where he'd been dragged to, he saw Otikami lift a now howling Sam off the mattress and toss him across the room to his own sleeping area. Sam put his hands out to save his fall and Spencer was sure he heard the grinding and crunching o bones as Sam's hands took the blow. There was more shouting and crying and almost dog-like howling from Sam, but it was Spencer who Taki was now paying attention to.

'Get out – on your hands and knees. Get the hell out!'

Spencer didn't move. He stayed hunkered down with his back against the wall. If Taki wanted him out of here he was going to have to force him. He wasn't going to leave just so the man could deal out more pain to Sam. Spencer's _protection_ mode kicked in and he moved slightly along the wall towards Sam.

'Get out!' Now hands were grabbing at Spencer's shirt. Otikami twisted the fabric in his hand causing a slight ripping sound from the shoulder seam.

'It wasn't his fault!' Spencer shouted at Taki. 'I'm not going to allow you to hurt him any more. If you want Sam you'll have to go through me.' He tried to pull away, but just managed to rip his shirt a bit more.

'You're right. It wasn't his fault. It was your fault. I told you what would happen. You thought you knew better. Well let's see how much better you know. With me. Hands and knees and with me or you'll not see that boy with his limbs attached again. Move it! Now!'

Again Spencer tried to find his feet and again Otikami backhanded Spencer knocking his head back, giving him a bloody nose and making him cut the inside of his mouth on his teeth. 'I'll not crawl for you. Let me get to my feet, but you will leave Sam alone. It was my choice to give him comfort.'

'And you forgot what I said to you!' Otikami had to shout now to be heard over Sam's wailing, bitching and shouts of curses he was going to place on the next person who hurt his hands. 'Get up. Get to your damned feet then Spencer and move out of the room. I think the dog needs time to calm down.' He pulled at Spencer's shirt and dragged him from the room. Outside a tall man with a ruddy face and a sprinkling of freckles over his bald head went down into a deep bow on one knee. 'Give the dog his candy.' Taki snapped at the man who muttered some kind of reply and entered the room where Sam was.

Otikami shoved Spencer along the corridor a while. 'There's no need to keep hurting Sam.' Spencer tried again.

'He's going to be asleep for a little while. No more disturbances for the night.' He pulled Reid to a stop outside a large wooden door with black metal studs holding it together. 'Open the damned door then! Don't just stand there looking at it. It's not going to bite. That's what I'm for… move it!'

The room was probably three times the size of the one he and Sam had been in. It had a huge vaulted ceiling… the floor was covered in carpets, rugs and cushions of every colour imaginable… The walls were covered in what appeared to be bright oriental tapestries… A large chandelier hung from the middle of the ceiling, lanterns hung on the walls, their coloured glass forming odd coloured shadows which flickered with what seemed to be candles inside. There were incense burners which had filled the room with a rich cloying odour; which Spencer thought was going to make him sneeze. There were metal goblets on a small side table and decanters of wine. A platter of fruit was on the floor next to one of the large red cushions.

'My little escape.' Taki hissed into Spencer's ear. 'I thought as you were so willing earlier with me, and all over the dog like a flea, that I'd let you see what I had to offer you.'

Spencer stood just inside the door and took in all he could see. No other door… no window. This door was the only way out unless there was something behind one of the wall hangings. It was bright and vulgar. He thought with some amusement that Sam would probably love it and it would probably give Floyd a monster headache. 'Lovely.' Spencer said.

'Well I like to be comfortable. Move on in. Find somewhere to rest.'

'Why?' Spencer was still standing just at the edge of the doorway.

'Why what?'

'This? Why are you showing me? Why am I really here? You said I'm going to die.' He watched Taki nod slowly. 'Then I'd like to know the reasons.'

Again Taki nodded. He placed a hand on Spencer's chest and shoved him backwards into the room. Spencer flailed and reached out for something to stop him falling as rugs and cushions got under his feet and almost seemed to come alive and wrap around his ankles. There was nothing to hold onto though and so he fell back onto his butt with a loud 'umph'. The things which had tripped him also saved him from getting hurt.

'When I'm ready and when I think you're ready then we will have that talk you so badly want. Though why you want to know is a mystery. Cant you just let death take you, Spencer? I suppose someone like you needs to work out all the statistics and figure out your decomp rate? I'm sorry that your mind works like that. Surely what happens to your carcass is of no import?' Taki knelt down at Spencer's feet. 'I'll tell you this though, Spencer, that mark on your back, that one which Floyd so lovingly carved there… it will mean all, and it will mean nothing.'

'I don't understand.'

'Well, now… that's not a surprise is it? You were right though and you got me wondering about things and yes, I really do believe you were right.'

'What about?' Spencer pulled his shirt back into place where it had become tangled up from Taki's hands.

'About how things were. How things could have been. Much has changed. Water under the bridge, don't they say? But was that good clean spring water, Spencer or was it tainted and dirty? Has it had a chance to repair the damage done to it?'

Spencer had a horrible feeling where this was leading. 'Too much water Taki. It's a shame. But things didn't go in the direction they should or could have. Some of that is my fault and some is probably yours. Whatever there was there is over.'

Taki sat back and picked up a slice of mango. 'Eat… Make me happy and I'll leave the dog alone for a while. Until I bore of you. Amuse me. Talk to me. Tell me what you've been up to… what adventures you've been on. You must… I'm sure you must have many things to tell me. It's been a number of years since we were last together. Tell me how Sam died.'

'Died?' Spencer looked at the way Taki was sucking the juice off his bit of fruit and then he looked at the door.

'In the desert. How did he die?'

Spencer now looked at the bowl of fruit. What did Taki know? How much did he know and how? And if he knew some, why not all of it. 'The desert?'

'In the bunker. Tell me… I'm interested in your point of view on the events as they unfolded. I wasn't there. Obviously I wasn't there. I only know what I've been told and that little dog was the only one who passed on information to the correct beings. I only have what he said as my little bit of _truth_, but I would love to know the real truth. What happened in the bunker, Spencer? What killed the dog? Why does he hold so much vile, putrid hatred towards you? What did you do to him?'

'I don't know.' Spencer replied. Which was partly true. He had been shot, but much of what happened after that he was only half alive for and some of it was surely not right.

'Tell me how Sam died in the forest then! Now I _know_ you were there then… and I'm just wondering if his intense dislike for you is in any way connected with you crushing his skull until his brains spilt from his ears and out of his nose? Smashed his jaw up pretty badly too… crushed his face… that pretty face of his.' Taki watched Spencer get to his feet. 'I think if someone did something like that to me, especially as he needs that face to lure his victims… you know I'd be a bit pissed off with you too. Then of course Floyd makes the whole matter so much worse by saying he'd done it, thus you are off the hook and remain un-punished! Not even by Floyd! That's monstrous. That really is a horrible thing to have to live with don't you think? And he actually thought he was forgiven, but no… no… Floyd is a brute of a man. A stinking nasty spiteful dangerous man… he let Sam get hold of a weapon… He let Sam shoot you and then rather than accepting that Sam had had his revenge and letting the clocks reset and letting things settle and everyone be happy… oh rather than accepting that, he abandoned Sam again. Let him feel those poisons burn at his internal organs. Poor kid. Don't you feel just a small jot of pity for him?' Spencer sat down again. 'Well you shouldn't, not really because he will never forgive you. He will use you and when you're relaxed enough to think that everything's going to be good, then Sam will rip your darling throat out. He's a pig of a creature. Not a forgiving inch of flesh on his body, but what would you expect?'

Spencer shook his head. 'This is all about that?'

'No. Partly. Just a small part though. I'm going to let Sam have his revenge.' Taki held up the platter of fruit for Spencer. 'Dogs are good creatures to have at your side. That's what Sam was for. Something to train and keep. Flanders though has been piss poor at training Sam in anything but where to dip his little wick… and that's not been all that wondrously done. Sam has learnt most of his tricks off the street… not from Floyd. He should have made sure that Sam could fend for himself in the forests, but let that dog loose and he'd be dead within a week. He's not got a clue. All that time spent following Floyd around… nothing went in except for that unexceptional penis of his. So! This was what happened… Please eat something Spencer.'

'I'm confused.' He pushed the plate away.

'Sam went back and he moaned and he cried and he sobbed and snotted, as he does, and I happened to be on vacation chattering away to old acquaintances and catching up on the news in Hades and I hear that Sam is there. And I hear that Floyd disposed of him… well I've been looking around for some time for an apprentice. And it really did fill me with quite a bit of amusement when I considered whether I should take the dog as my own and train him. He's so weak though… that's the only problem. He needs to toughen up. But never the less, Floyd and I we play for different teams. I'm all for Team Salquath… that's about as close to pronouncing it in a form your brain will cope with, Floyd roots for another team, but that information I need to keep for myself. It doesn't do to pass on someone's private identity, but Sam… poor sobbing Sam, he played for no team. His dislike for you was overshadowed quite a bit by his complete un-repenting dark loathing for Floyd. Poor Floyd… I pity him much as you felt pity for Sam, but it's not going to stop me from standing there smiling as the beast disposes of himself.' Taki stood up and went to the side table. He picked up two goblets and a decanter of something thick and red and then returned to Spencer. 'I'm sorry, Spencer. Where you going to say something? I feel that I interrupted.'

Spencer glanced at the finely cut glass decanter and at Taki's hands pulling off the stopper. He didn't want to know what was in that thing, but it looked too thick… and as Taki poured it… it seemed slightly lumpy. 'He will come here and he will stop you. I don't know why you couldn't just take Sam as yours if that was what you wanted. Why this silly game and why hurt Sam the way you are if you want him to work for you?'

'Serve. I want him to serve me. To sit at my feet and wash them with his dirty whore's tongue. I want him to kneel at my side when I'm working and not pass out at the first sign of blood or to wince when someone screams. We all have to toughen up for what we intend to follow as our chosen path. You, Spencer had to learn that the body you were viewing at a crime scene was just _evidence_ the emotions you would feel had to be eradicated. You had to be able to look beyond the death and the smells and the crying parents and screaming helpless children and see it as a puzzle to be solved. You, Spencer had to toughen up. You had to learn.'

Spencer nodded. 'I understand what you are saying about me, but how does breaking Sam make him what you want him to be?'

'Eventually he will run out of snot.'

Spencer raised an eyebrow. 'If that's what's bothering you, give him tissues.'

Taki shook his head and then took a long drink from his goblet. 'Let me show you something. Hold this.' He passed the gloopy drink to Spencer and slowly stood. He pulled at the hem of his Tshirt and dragged it off over his head. His torso was a mass of scars which looked as though they'd come from maybe thousands of whippings or strikes with a cane. Taki could see the expression of Spencer's face; that wide eyed unbelieving look. 'You see, I too had to toughen up at some point.' He held his hands out for Spencer to see, but Spencer didn't look, he just shoved the goblet back into his hands. 'I was never…' He snatched the drink, '… as good as Otsu. He was a master. A grand master at delivering pain, but he's gone. A long time gone, but I was at one point much like Sam. I had to learn. Sam will learn, but you see, you my little friend, are in the way!'

'How?' Spencer picked up a tiny bit of mango and slipped it between his lips.

'By existing with that fucking thing on your damned back! That's how! That arsehole Flanders marked you before Sam could kill you. It wasn't meant to happen like that! It's a fucking mark of bonding. He made you his bondsman! What a prick! What an interfering stupid tit!' Taki crouched down in front of Spencer. 'And it means that you my friend will always belong to Flanders, but damn him if it's not a triple mark of bondsmanship. He's added two other people to it. Sam being one of them… the other is himself! Can you imagine how difficult that makes things? It means obviously that you will never stray from Floyd. You're his marked meat. You'll open your legs and mouth for him and him only. There's no way around that damned thing… Sam however… he's different… he entered into contract outside that bond because Floyd abandoned him. I sort of tried to get you to do that to Sam too, but you're too weak. You fall for his whining and whimpering. You are a fool. A damned fool… and I mean that in every sense of the word. You carry on your back an oath of bondsmanship to Flanders and Trent. Idiot. Stupid foolish man. What made you do that? What on earth made you want to give your soul to Flanders?'

Spencer swallowed the bit of fruit which he'd been chewing slowly as he listened. It was all lies. Spencer knew that. The thing on his back was nothing more than like the thing on Floyd's. It was just an old slightly faded scar now. The actual design was distorted. I was meaningless. 'I might well have let Floyd mark me… yes, I let him. It has nothing to do with my inability to stray from him. I don't stray because I am loyal to him. I have no need to go elsewhere. I don't _want_ anyone but Floyd.'

'So you think. Please have a drink. There's wine up on the side if you wish. Have a drink and have a think. Are you free? I mean really free? Do you have the ability to walk away from Flanders if you want to?'

Spencer stood and walked to the small table. He un-stoppered one of the decanters and had a sniff. It did smell like wine, but he wasn't going to risk it. He walked back to Taki empty handed. 'Yes I do. I just don't want to.'

'You're a bigger fool than I thought you were if you really believe that. You're no more able to go screw someone else other than a cheap whore than Sam is able to stop his nose from running. You just cant see it. Ask yourself why you stay loyal to that man. Give me ten good reasons why… ten good things about Flanders and yes, I'll listen to them and I'll discuss them with you and even attempt to call you a liar if I feel you're being dishonest. Ten Spencer that's all.'

'He provides for me.' Spencer said quietly. 'He keeps me safe. He protects me. He…' Spencer stopped and had to think. 'He loves me.'

'Well yes he provides for you. I'll accept that one. Keeps you safe though? Where are you? Where is he? I'll have to delete that one if you don't mind… protects you from what? Is that all you have to offer? He sleeps around. He goes with whores. He steals, kills, takes narcotics, threatens… forces himself on you, beats you, rapes you… Stop me when you hear something which might not be the whole truth. He's a bastard, Spencer. He's just a monster who likes to have a couple of pretty boys at his side… one of them doesn't even look old enough to be legal…'

'You're wrong.' Spencer hissed at him. 'You don't know him! If you knew him as well as I do then you'd know how wrong you are. He served two years…'

'Oh don't bullshit me Spencer! He loved it inside! He was getting things stuffed in every hole he has and enjoying every minute of it! Don't for a second think that he did that to protect you! He did that to show his high and mighty fuck skills to the inmates. Stupid Spencer. Very stupid. He was fucking around and keeping you close at the same time. I have to say that he's rather persuasive…'

'I love him!' Spencer kicked the goblet out of Taki's hands.

'No you don't! You love not having to think for yourself. You love the pain! You love the danger!' Taki was looking at where his goblet had fallen when Spencer's foot caught him in the jaw…

o-o-o

Flanders sat with Hotchner on a squashy chair waiting for papers to be signed so that he could leave. Floyd had done a rare thing and made a promise to Hotchner. Promises to Floyd were like a binding contract with someone. You don't ever promise someone something and then forget the words you'd said. If you don't mean it, you don't promise it. To Floyd it was simple.

'I promise not to alarm or make a fuss whilst in the hospital or the hospital grounds on this occasion.' That left Floyd able to come back later and show them what a bastard he really was. It also allowed him to attack Hotch (if he felt the need) as soon as the car left the hospital grounds. But already Floyd was getting twitchy and uncomfortable.

'How long are they going to take?' He hissed at Hotch. 'Not that… well yes… I do. I want the hell out of this place. It makes me nervous. You don't like me when I'm nervous.'

'No one likes you when you're nervous. What's wrong? We are leaving soon. Some meds to take to keep the voice silent.'

'Wont work. Those… OK… I said I'll not make a fuss and I wont. I'll discuss this with you later. I _will_ discuss it with you though. Maybe with clenched fists and a loud voice. Just warning you.'

'Warning taken. Now relax.' Hotch wanted to put a comforting hand on Floyd's arm, but Floyd had rolled his sleeves up to just above the elbow and Aaron didn't want to actually go as far as touching Floyd's flesh. He could see the muscles tensing and relaxing in those arms and it wouldn't take much for Floyd to lash out and though he could see those tight corded muscles in his arms, he also knew that Floyd had strength in them which was not expected. At least not expected if you didn't know him. He was a lot stronger than he looked.

Finally papers were handed to Hotch. A small box of pills was also handed to Hotch. 'I'll look after them for now.' He informed Floyd.

'I'm not a kid.' Floyd muttered. 'I can handle them myself.'

'Then why do I have the feeling that you'll take the lot as soon as my back is turned?'

'Stop reading my fucking mind Aaron. Don't you know that's rude, but point taken. I consider my wrist slapped.'

Flanders sat shotgun and waited until the car was under the barrier and then he began to talk. 'Pull over Aaron. I need to talk to you. Just couldn't do it in the hospital. They'd have thought I was a raving loon, but I really need to say this… here will do… or failing that… here? Or here? Fucking pull the fuck over before I make you… There! Pull over there.'

Hotch pulled over into a small area which was meant for emergency vehicles, but pulling over for Floyd seemed like an emergency. He thought it would be OK. 'What's wrong?' There was a tone of slight boredom in his voice. He wanted to find Sam… NO! He wanted, needed to find Spencer. Hotch rubbed at his temples with fingertips. It had been a long day and now a longer night.

'For a while I thought I was being followed. It was a strange feeling though, almost like someone was up here in my head and following me from the inside. I've had that sort of thing going on before but put it down to… drugs. Anyway, I then came across Sam and he told me he'd been following me. I decided that was why the feeling had been so intense… it was Sam. I didn't even think about it again until I was in the hospital. Sam may well have been following me and shadowing to a point but it wasn't him in my head back then. That wasn't Sam I was sensing at all. I just discarded the idea that I was being followed because Sam said he had been, but Aaron… it's still sort of there. Not like it was, but like on and off flashes. Like seeing a reflection in a shop window you're looking in and you turn and no one is there. Do you ever get that?'

Hotch sighed. 'You should still be in hospital. What ever happened to you when you were tracking Spencer…'

Floyd grabbed Hotch's arm… 'But that's it! Don't you see it! That's what is happening. That mother fucker Otikami has found a way in. It was him in my head… tracking me from here.' Floyd tapped his head. 'And once in it's a bitch to get them out again. I was tracking Spencer. I was on his trail… then Sam's screaming at me and I just lost it. I lost everything, but why did Sam do that Hotch? Why then? Why just as I was on Spencer's trail? Why would Sam do that?'

'Cant imagine. Can we go now?'

'Sure… turn a left at the end and then… left! Aaron you mother fucker! Left… well left here then and circle back… what the fuck… are you listening to me?'

'Floyd, I'm going to sit down and listen to everything you have to say, but it will be under a controlled environment and I will be recorded and I would like Rossi to be with us. I think if you have any other crazy ideas that they need to wait until then. I know you want to go back to where the car…'

'No. I need to go back to the parking lot your car was taken from. Can you do that? Drop me off there? I don't want to have to have crime scene wipe your blood off the windshield, but your fucking attitude is beginning to bug me. I'm trying to help here. I'm trying to locate them and you're putting barriers in the damned way. Are you in cahoots with Otikami, because if this is some plot to discredit me…'

'Discredit you?'

Floyd thought that Hotch's voice sounded a little bit sarcastic. 'I know you don't like me Aaron. We don't need to pretend to be buddies, but I do know that you like Spencer and you have a soft spot for Sam and I'm trying to fucking well help them. There's no need to use that damned tone of voice on me like I'm some fucking school kid. I can get you your unsub, cully, but you've got to listen to me and try to understand.'

'We're nearly back at the office Floyd. We are all very tired…'

'I don't need to sleep! I've been sleeping. I was drugged to fucking death and now I need to be pounding the streets and finding my boys.'

'Why do you think Sam distracted you?' Hotchner pulled into the parking lot, found his numbered space and then turned to Floyd for an answer.

Flanders was staring out of the side window, but Hotch could see his reflection and could clearly see the frown on Floyd's face. 'I dunno. That's what I don't understand. If they're together why do that? A little pull is all I needed, not a fucking brainstorm.'

Hotch gave a quick nod. 'We can discuss this further somewhere more comfortable.'

'Fine! I'll talk to Rossi and you and we will together form a plan of action. I'm not going to sit around and wait for random body parts to be delivered. That bastard has no feelings for Spencer or Sam… They're nothing to him.'

Hotch said no more, but opened the car door and stepped out. He waited for Floyd and walked behind him. His own head was still aching from the smack he'd received and his concentration felt as though it was waning horribly. He needed to just sit and think for a while and Floyd's constant babbling wasn't helping much. Hotch _did_ think that Floyd was wrong about one thing though. He thought Floyd was very wrong that Otikami had no feelings for Spencer. He just wasn't sure how to tell the man that.

o-o-o

Spencer leapt to his feet and made a run for the door. Or at least he made a stumbling lurch towards it. The hand grabbed the back of his shirt before he could get a hold of the door handle and yanked him back. Spencer's elbow went back and up making a nice crunch sound as it connected with something behind him. It was a good try, but not good enough. Hands wrapped around his throat and dragged him backwards. He kicked back, again making some kind of contact. He put a hand over one of the ones around his neck and wrenched back on fingers and stamped down on toes.

Reid flew a very short distance and landed on the cushions much as he had done when he first fell backwards into this room. He reached out this time and felt his fingers brush one of the large metal incense burners. As Taki came in for what look like it might have been _the kill_ Spencer swung it at him. Again contact, but again it wasn't good enough. The man was pulling the thing out of his hand with one hand and wiping a dribble of blood of his face with the other.

'Feisty!' He shouted into Spencer's face. 'My god I can see why Flanders wants you so much!'

Spencer wriggled and writhed under Taki, and then remembering that Floyd actually enjoyed that, he lay completely still. 'Get off me.'

'Or what? Show me?'

Spencer tried. He pulled at Taki's arm in one direction and twisted his own body in another. The result was that Spencer was the one sitting astride Taki. He would have loved to have thought that he actually managed to do that to this man, but he had a horrible feeling that Taki just let him do that.

And just as those thought were going through Spencer's head Taki's hands reached up for his hair and pulled his face down towards his own. 'You've got me all hot for you.' Taki whispered. He ran his tongue over Spencer's lips. 'What else have you got?' A small wriggle from Taki and suddenly Spencer wanted to be anywhere but where he was.

'Let go.'

Taki grinned and slowly let go of Spencer's hair, but now his hands were on Reid's face and his fingers were touching his neck and then pulling at the collar on his shirt. It was one quick tug and Spencer's buttons were popping off and the shirt was being pulled down his arms.

'Stop it.' But he just sat there astride him and let him. The words were more of an automatic response to being slapped and abused and they held little or no conviction.

Those fingers were touching his chest, running over his arms, moving down to his stomach… 'Now prove to me that you can be unfaithful. Show me that I was wrong and I'll let the pair of you go. I will bow out and I will return home once again defeated by Flanders. Though it will hurt to do so, though it will hurt dreadfully and set me back again… prove it…' The fingers had started tugging now on the front of Spencer's cords. 'You cant hide that from me Spencer… You love a bit of rough.'

'I cant.'

'Well I'm sorry sweet thing, but you obviously _can_! Now get off me and kneel. I don't want to see your face as I ram you.'

Spencer swallowed.' You will release Sam.'

'Oh yes. I said didn't I?'

'Can I have a promise?'

School playground games? Taki looked puzzled for a moment. 'Oh I promise! I really do promise Spencer. I promise I will do no further harm to Sam and I will release him back to Floyd. You too if that's what you still want. Let me show what real love making is all about though. Let me show you that first.' Did Spencer _really_ think that he kept stupid childish promises? Reid had obviously spent far too long under the influence of Flanders. Time to educate the lad. He easily flipped Spencer off and dragged him into position. 'I hope you don't mind if I use a condom, Spencer, but I know Floyd's been having you and Sam and I don't really want their dirt on my precious cock.'

o-o-o

Whilst Sam lay on his side on his dirty mattress and drooled a little puddle and his mind drifted off into places where there was no pain, and as Spencer let Taki do whatever it was he wanted to do to him (and though he did protest about something, he was actually enjoying it!) Floyd was doing something which Hotch had never expected, and Rossi didn't think he'd ever see…

Floyd was sobbing.

Not in pain or in anger, but it seemed to the two agents that Floyd was actually distressed by something. He was curled up on the couch in Hotch's office with his hands rammed between his legs and his eyes closed and there were tears.

Rossi gave Hotch a WTF look and Hotch returned it.

Everything had been going well. Floyd had told them that if he could just keep Sam out of his head for a while he'd be able to track down Spencer. Spencer's mind wouldn't be so direct as Sam's was. Spencer was probably not able to feel if Floyd was rummaging around in his head. It seemed to have started out fine. Floyd took a quick look around in that neatly ordered brain of Spencer's and opened up a couple of doors. He could tell that Spencer was worried about Sam. 'He's worried about Sam.' Was what he actually said. He could tell that they were underground somewhere… 'Damp.' Floyd muttered… 'It's…' He looked up at Aaron. 'I think Spencer is _emotional_…' Then his words drifted off into just odd broken bits which made no sense to Hotch or Aaron. 'Don't do it.' He now looked down at the floor. 'He'd not would he?' It was at this point that Floyd rammed his hands between his legs and slid sideways. 'No… not that!' The words came out as a gasp of what might have been horror. ''Tis a trick!' Then his eyes were closed. 'Ooooh… No… babes.' And nothing else was said which even vaguely made sense to either of them. They thought he said something about condoms and lube… they thought he muttered 'Tongue.' At one point. The rest was just an inhuman growl from somewhere, which was obviously Floyd but somehow seemed to come from all around them and sounded almost orgasmic.

Again Rossi gave Hotch that look. 'He needs to be back in hospital, Hotch.'

Slowly Hotch shook his head. 'We need to talk to him first.' He knelt down next to Floyd and touched his shoulder. 'What can you sense?'

'Disloyalty, betrayal.'

'Whose? Sam?'

'Oh fuck no! Sam's not even worth considering. Spencer! That son of a whore! I'm going to fucking kill the bastard! Both of them! The mothering cunt!' Floyd got to his feet. Spat on the ground between his feet. 'How long has Spencer been missing? How fucking long! It's that quick? He forgets me so soon? He just… he has committed a crime far worse than any I've ever done.'

'Do you know where they are?'

'If I did I'd not tell you, but as it happens no. I just came in my fucking jeans. I need to go change them. I don't want Otikami's spunk on me. Fucking dirty slitty eyed fucking jap bastard!'

o-o-o

Taki lay back with his new prize in his wet sweaty arms. He knew it was only temporary, but he also knew that Floyd had been there when he'd taken Spencer… almost lovingly… tenderly… he'd tried not to hurt him _too_ much, just enough for Spencer to like what he was getting. He smiled smugly up at the chandelier and sent out a quick sharp message to Floyd, which actually made Floyd's knees unhinge and floor him as he stood waiting for the elevator…

_I fucked him. _

_ And he enjoyed it._

**a/n: Well that didn't go the way I thought it would. **


	8. Chapter 8

8

Rossi and Hotchner took a mumbling babbling Flanders back to the apartment. A bit of tape was across the door claiming that it was a crime scene, but Hotch pulled it away and carefully and slowly took the key out of Floyd's shaking hands and let themselves in. They watched with a scowl on their faces as Flanders staggered down the short passageway using the wall as support. He'd used strong language when Hotch had tried to help him. Floyd wasn't going to accept any assistance from these people. They were becoming in Floyd's eyes, as bad as Taki and Sam for holding him back and preventing him from doing what he needed to do. He also had to accept that he needed some kind of help to get him home again.

It was to the bedroom that he stumbled and with Hotch slowly following and Rossi walking at his heel they could both see that Floyd was dragging an old leather backpack out of a corner and rummaging through it.

'I need stuff.' Floyd spoke to the two agents. 'Give me an hour and I'll have this shit all sorted. Close the door. Make yourselves at home. Read to each other or something, but remember to use a fucking coaster if you make coffee.' A twist of cellophane was now in one of Floyd's hands. The other was fumbling at his belt. 'Unless you want to see me naked and in a state of high arousal, you should back out and close the fucking door.'

They did close the door. Neither of them were up to the wondrous sight Floyd had offered them. An hour. Time for Hotch to try to get his mind in order… neat little lines of information had been scrambled into a jumble of nonsense and the unexplainable and he didn't like that. Rossi went into the lounge and browsed the books. The one Floyd had recently purchased for Spencer was still sitting there on the coffee table. He ran a finger over the odd faded lettering and then carefully opened it.

It was certainly the sort of book which would fill you with wonder as you browsed the maps, but then fill you with equal repulsion as you turned the page to view the illustrations. He closed it again, hoping that the book belonged to Floyd and not to Spencer. Neither of the two men made coffee. They did sit in almost perfect silence, listening out for any odd noises coming from behind the bedroom door. Both knowing that even if they did hear something strange that neither of them would want to be the first one to enter or even to rap on the door and ask if everything was OK and both men hoped that they'd sit listening and hear nothing.

o-o-o

Floyd lay on his back with his jeans, much like Sam's had been, around his knees. There wasn't actually any sign of arousal, but it still wouldn't have been a sight the agents would have wanted to view. He had his knees bent upwards slightly and inside of his boots his sore toes were curling and uncurling as he snorted up his powders in an attempt to get somewhere inside of his own head and close those doors Taki had so rudely torn open. He lay there and waited for his mind to drift away from where he was laying on the bedroom floor to more fantastical places which he kept secured in his own head. Floyd liked to wander around the strange places which grew there and talk to the tiny people and sing to the rainbows and talk happy times with frogs and butterflies. He also loved to stand shin deep in water and feel fish nibbling at his toes. It was Floyd's special private place which not even Spencer had ever been to.

Now though as Floyd ground his teeth and he peered around his haven, he could see that someone had been trampling through it. He could see uprooted trees, dead creatures with their heads torn from their bodies, butterflies laying dried up and dead in brown grass, the river dried up. Floyd's heart pounded in his chest as he stepped down into the dry bed of the river. Rotting fish lay in mud pools and insects buzzed around making a sound which reminded Floyd of the horrible whining Sam would make in his head sometimes. He kicked out at a few stones, stepped out of where a river once flowed and along the bank in the direction the water should have been flowing from.

Floyd's sometimes overactive imagination had at one time created a magnificent water fall. It should have been just around the bend from where he was now squatting listening to that whining moan of things eating off the carcass which was once his _safe place_ inside of his head. That though was the only sound he could hear. He should have been almost deafened by the rushing water at this point, but it had obviously stopped flowing for some reason. He knew what that reason was. Taki had been here. He'd been camped down inside of his head probably for months, slowly destroying him from the inside. 'I will go insane.' Floyd said to himself as he plucked a withered flower from the dried up grass. He looked above him where lush green leaves should have shielded his view of the sky and saw bare branches and a white sky. 'Before my insanity takes a good hold of me, I will kill the mother fucker.' He stood and continued his walk to where the river should have started and be falling over rocks, spraying up a mist which would soak you in seconds. What he actually saw was ugly bare rocks, more dead creatures, birds… a deer, a pile of white bones which could have come from any number of small creatures and a muddy almost tar like pool at the base of the rocks. Floyd shook his head slowly and began the slow climb to the top.

It was an easy climb. He'd made it so in his head eons ago. He'd climbed up here and watched the water and sung a happy song and thought of all things nice. There was little point in making the climb a hard one. At the top, standing on trampled down poppies and snapped off wild flowers which should have been blooming and wondrous, was another pool much like the one at the bottom. A thick gloopy pool of something which was much more like tar than mud. It bubbled and hissed and almost seemed to warble at him. 'Fine. At least I know how you got in now.' Floyd hunkered down with his toes just dipping into the edge of the muck and his fingers trailing over the warm surface and he concentrated. If this was the place Taki had gotten in, then all he had to do was push a shield of some kind over the top of it. He had to remove the images Taki had left there and replace this mess with water… All he had to do was imagine it. Think about it… feel it…

o-o-o

Spencer woke up laying on his side covered with a fancy silk quilt. He sat up wincing, pulling the cover over him self and looking around. He had hoped it had all been a nightmare, but everything was horribly like he had last seen it. The dropped goblet, the discarded incense burner, the muddle of pillows and rugs, but there didn't seem to be a Taki around. Spencer groaned and looked down at the thing covering him. It was probably worth a fortune, but just made Spencer blink. It was fine appliqué in a rainbow of colours, birds, animals, mystical flying creatures. It was like Spencer's opinion of the rest of the room; vulgar and tasteless. The sort of thing a tourist would purchase thinking it was some traditional pattern. He pulled the edge of it back, but he was naked under it and pulled it quickly around himself again.

There was a temptation to call out for Taki, but instead he stood, wrapped the nasty thing around his waist and went to look for a drink and some food. He'd awoken ravenous and thirsty and more than a little bit sore. His knees felt grazed and his hips ached. Quickly his mind flashed back to what had caused that and just as quickly he tried to think of something else. It was to Sam that his thoughts drifted as he stood at the small side table and looked at the slices of fruit. He chose a bit of fruit and held it between two fingers before placing it back down again and choosing another. He had no idea whether it was drugged, but he was hungry and if he was going to keep his wits about him he was going to have to eat something. It was very sweet and tender and he was just about to choose another bit when the door behind him opened. Spencer turned and looked at Taki who seemed to be in some kind of fancy dress, but then again it was probably Taki's normal day wear. The thing he had on was made of something not unlike the thing Spencer had wrapped around him self, but Taki's garment had elbow length sleeves and was cinched in tight at the waist with a wide leather belt. Again Taki had his hair tied up high and he had brown leather sandals on his feet. That with the blood on his hands and splattered up his arms was a strange and not very welcome sight.

'I've been to talk to Sam.' Taki announced with a smile. 'He is learning.'

Spencer nodded trying to tear his eyes away from the blood. He looked down at the slice of melon he had in his hand, reached behind him and placed it back on the table. 'What exactly is he learning?' Spencer asked him.

'That if he does what he's told he gets treats.' Taki stepped towards Spencer and put his hands out to him. 'It's like training a dog.' He grabbed at Reid's hands and jerked him forwards towards him. 'You rub their noses in their own shit and give them treats when they do as they're told.'

Spencer twisted his hands like a child trying to get away from a parent. 'Sam's not a dog.'

'Oh, well I know not in a _real_ sense that he's not, but you still train them the same. The way Floyd has you so well trained.'

Reid tugged again at his hands as Taki gripped a tight hold and now pushed Spencer back against the wooden side table. Goblets and plates wobbled and rattled as the small of Reid's back pressed against the old oak. 'Floyd hasn't trained me.' Spencer hissed in Taki's face.

'I know. Piss poor job he did at that! Turn around.'

'Yesterday was a mistake.' Spencer told him. 'It wont be repeated.'

'You think? You really think that? Floyd already knows what you did. He's already looking for you to tear your guts out with his teeth, via your arse… you may as well enjoy your last few hours.' Taki spoke as he continued to press against Spencer and began a slow nibble on his shoulder.

'He will understand.' Spencer muttered, but he knew that Floyd would understand just one thing… he'd drifted, and all it had taken was a few kisses and a few touches.

'He will understand that you're a betraying little slag. That's all he'll understand. You will die a horrible death.'

'No.' Spencer tried to squeeze out from between this man and the table, but Taki was holding firm. Spencer was going nowhere unless Taki let him and Spencer had a feeling… quite a hot desperate feeling, that Taki wasn't going to be letting him go for now.

The table continued to rattle and things began to crash to the floor as Taki easily twisted Spencer's hands and then arms to manoeuvre him around into the position he needed. He did eventually let go of Spencer's hands and though Reid had given up telling Taki to stop, he didn't give up trying to get away from him. He grabbed a decanter and swung it around, catching Taki a good one on the side of his head where the incense burner had caught him the day before… the night before? Last week? Spencer didn't know when… time seemed to have slipped away. He did feel Taki move slightly and he heard a hissing noise of surprise and Spencer hoped it was pain too as the decanter shattered. Spencer moved fast towards the slightly open door, but again not fast enough. Taki was on him in a flash and pulling on the thing Spencer had around his waist. They both fell to the floor, Spencer on his front and Taki on his back. Not the best position for Spencer to be in. As Reid tried to crawl out from under him, Taki was trying to grab Spencer's arms and pin him down.

'Get off me!' Spencer was shouting.

'Keep still, you squirming bastard!'

Spencer now felt that Taki had let go of one of his arms. Surely it hadn't been so easy to get away? He was right. The hand was now on the back of Reid's head. Fingers were twisting through his hair and pulling his head back off the floor. 'Give yourself to me!' Taki was screaming at him. Spencer could feel the spit flying from Taki's mouth and splattering his back. 'Offer yourself to me!'

'_Never!_' Spencer spat back at him. 'Never!'

'But you already have!' And now Spencer's face was being forced down into one of the very elaborate cushions of the floor. Reid kicked back. Tried to use his free arm to plant an elbow somewhere, but Taki was ready for him now. Taki had been expecting and wanting a fight. He loved to feel Spencer wriggling under him like this. 'My god, Spencer, no wonder Flanders lusts after you so much.'

For Spencer the world had gone dark as soon as Taki had forced his face into the cushions, but that darkness was now sprinkled with stars which seemed to explode around the edges and drift inwards like a crazy firework. Somewhere very distant he could hear Taki talking to him. He thought he could feel a mouth on the back of his neck and he also thought he could feel the vulgar cover being pulled back off him. For a few seconds the weight on his legs and rear was gone, the hand holding his head in place was gone. Two hands now grasped him around the hips. 'See… I knew you'd like it.' How many hands did Taki have? They seemed to be all over him at the same time, pulling him towards him, stroking him, massaging him, running fingers over his chest and back… A deep frantic groaning was in his ears, but there also seemed to be tongue on his butt, and licking at his front at the same time. Spencer let out his own groan and the struggle to get away stopped.

Actually the struggle had stopped quite a while ago.

As he lay, now on his side, trying to take gulps of air something touched his lips. Spencer opened his eyes and found he was looking directly into Taki's. 'You taste of the sweetest honey.' Taki remarked as he licked his lips. He placed a hand on the back of Spencer's head and this time pulled Spencer's face towards his.

It was just a kiss.

Spencer could defend that. The kiss was nothing. Not as a single component. If you discounted all else. If you ignored the way Spencer's hand pressed against the back of Taki's neck and if you ignored the way Spencer let his lips open or the way he nibbled on Taki's bottom lip. He didn't even realise that he'd wrapped one of his legs around this man. It was a natural thing to do. It all felt so right.

But it was _just_ a kiss. Nothing else. It held no promises of anything else. It didn't mean that Spencer was going to just hand himself over to Taki. It didn't mean that he'd betrayed Floyd.

A kiss after all means nothing.

There's no emotional involvement and the other stuff had surely been rape. He was sure of that. He'd struggled. He'd tried to get away. He'd told Taki to stop.

He'd wanted it.

And he had the dreadful feeling that he was going to want this again.

Was that all it took for Spencer to turn his back on Floyd? Really was that all? Just a couple of rough and tumbles on some silk cushions and a bit of touching.

Spencer wanted to curl up in a dark corner and be alone for a while. It seemed though that he didn't have that option. Taki wanted him to have a shower. He wanted him to smell as good as he tasted. 'I'll scrub your back for you.' A slight glint in Taki's eyes which for a horrific moment looked as though Floyd was glaring out of them.

o-o-o

As Sam knelt on the stone floor with his eyes looking down that the small dark gaps between the slabs, his arms wrapped around his chest and his hands now a dull throb, Floyd picked himself up off the floor of his bedroom (HIS) and walked down to _his_ lounge where Hotchner and Rossi were sitting talking quietly on _his_ brown leather couch. He gave them a quick nod and pointed towards the main door.

'Floyd?' Aaron spoke first. Floyd looked pale… his skin was a vile sickly colour but somehow he looked like he had a temperature. The normal glint he had in his eyes was gone and those eyes looked slightly red rimmed and sore. 'Is everything all right?'

'Fine and dandy. I need time alone if you don't mind? You know where to door is. There was no need for you to hang around. Don't you both have jobs to do? Missing people rarely find themselves and I don't think I'm going to be as much help to you as I previously assumed.' He threw himself down onto the chair – previously Reid's domain – and pulled a bit of paper out from where it had been stuffed down the front of his shirt. 'Before you leave and as I don't know when we'll next see each other, I thought you should have this.' He handed the thing out to Hotch. It was a few bits of paper A4 size and neatly folded. 'It's just the copies, you understand. The solicitor has all the paperwork. It's all very legal and you don't have to thank me. It is very much my pleasure. Take it and go. I'm tired of this shit.'

Hotch turned the folded paper over in his hands. It was good quality paper. Not some cheap stuff from a stationers. He could feel the slight indent from the letter heading which had been folded inwards. Though he'd not opened it, he had a horrible feeling that it was something along the lines of a death warrant… a confession? It was something he didn't want to look at, but yet really desperately needed to. He sat and rested the folded paper on his knees. 'You want me to look at this now?'

'I have no damned care if you go wipe your arse on it Aaron. Just take it as a final payment and get the fuck out of my apartment. You're no longer welcome here and Rossi, nor are you.'

'Final payment of what?' Aaron asked.

Dave was staring at the letter on Aaron's lap wondering exactly the same thing.

'Open it and find out! That, I would suggest is the easiest thing to do, but really Aaron it's only information I'm passing on because in some aspects it will concern you later.'

Hotchner would have liked to have been alone at home or in his office, but Dave was watching him closely and Floyd was sitting there looking at something a million miles away. He picked it up and unfolded the sheets of paper. He read the letter heading, read the brief introduction and then quickly read through the rest of it. He then handed it to Rossi to look at. 'I cant accept this.'

'Not asking _you_ to accept it Aaron. It's for Jack as you can clearly see. One mill when he goes to uni, another when he turns twenty-one, but I've made sure that if he's too thick for uni the money stays in the trust until he is twenty-one where upon he will inherit all of it. It will see him through life. He'll never have a worry, if he's sensible. I think he will be. Someone will be there to guide him. I assure you of that.'

Aaron glanced at Rossi who was reading the letter yet again and then at Floyd. 'No. I'm sorry Floyd but you're not doing this.'

'I'm offended.' Floyd said with no emotion. 'And it's not your decision to make. That's not your name on the paperwork as you can well see. If Jack dies before his twenty-first birthday the money doesn't go to you, it will be transferred…'

'I read it.'

'Well then I cant see what you're bitching about. I'm giving your kid money to educate and live a fun life with! He'll never have to work! What a fucking lucky kid you've got.'

'I'll stop this.' Hotchner stood and Rossi stood at his side.

'No you wont. You wont because Jack will know you stopped it. Imagine that? "Sorry son but I didn't feel you needed a gift of two million bucks… I thought you should earn your own dosh." He will love you for that. Eternal love. I'm sure of it. Be careful what you do Aaron. Be very careful. Now can you both get the fuck out of my apartment? I need something to snack on and I need to relax in my own company. All voices are gone in case you're wondering. Give my love to Jack. Tell him Uncle Floyd is looking out for him.'

Hotchner wanted to pounce on Floyd and knock the man's insane brains out of his head. But he bit down on all insults and threats and nodded. His mouth was drawn into a faint pale line on his face. 'Are you going to help find Reid?'

'No.'

Rossi started a quick walk away. This was going to turn nasty if they didn't get out soon. He could feel that odd electricity buzzing over his skin making the hairs on the back of his hands stand up and making his lips tingle oddly. Hotch took his leave also, clutching the bits of paper in his hand and cursing Floyd in his head. He'd not allow this. He'd never allow this! It would never happen. He would get an injunction out against Floyd to keep him away from Jack. He would make sure that his money never arrived in Jack's hands and he'd make sure that Jack never knew about it. It was a joke! It was another of Floyd's insane pranks to wind people up.

And it was working.

Floyd waited for them to leave, for the door to click shut… for his heart to stop the crazy skipping pounding it was doing. He leaned forward with his head in his hands and let out a long deep sigh. 'Very well. I accept. I'll do it. It's been a long time coming, but I'll do it my way.' He listened to the reply which only he could hear and did an odd sideways smile. 'So Otikami… you think you've taken what is mine? Maybe you have, but it's not something you're going to be able to keep.'

He stood and walked to the window which was covered in heavy dark blue drapes. He twitched them open slightly and looked at the view. It was one of the reasons Reid had liked this place so much. The wonderful Gothic exterior and the views. It was beautiful. Floyd placed a hand on the glass of the window. 'Maybe for the first time, or one of the first, but certainly maybe the first time in a while, I can honestly say that I'm sorry… Taki I am sorry. I beg your forgiveness. I will go to my knee and offer my apologies to you, but you have made a very grave error.' He turned away from the window and looked around the room. The place where he'd licked, smacked, beaten, raped… loved… Spencer… it was now a cold room with no feeling of home to it. He tore the place apart. Every book had every page torn from it (except for the coffee table porn). The pictures were dragged off the wall and broken, ripped… pissed on as was the furniture. He smashed the phone (again) along with laptop. The small wooden waste paper bin was thrown at the place the books had once been. He went to the kitchen, got a knife and tore at the couch. The only thing he actually left untouched was Reid's chair.

'You misunderstood me Otikami.' Floyd said as he slumped exhausted down into the chair. 'If I cant have him, no one can.'

o-o-o

Sam shuffled forwards when he was ordered to heel. He moved quickly on bruised aching knees but didn't lift his head and didn't remove his arms where they were wrapped around his chest. He was wearing tie string wasted trousers a bit like black pyjama bottoms which came to just below his knees. He had nothing on his feet and there was a short sleeved top wrapped around his torso. It covered all parts which would have been unseemly to have been flashing in public. His lower arms were still wrapped in plastic and the bright red was now a dull brown with patches of what almost looked to be pulsating yellow. His fingers though looked surprisingly straight, just very bruised to the point that Sam still couldn't use them. Whether they were as smashed as he had previously thought he didn't know. He wasn't about to test it by placing them on the ground as he moved towards the voice.

'Good dog. Stay there. We are getting ready to travel. You can ride a horse?'

A question and he'd be expected to answer it. He nodded slowly rather than risk opening his mouth and saying the wrong thing.

'You can either ride…' Taki moved closer and in a flash had buckled a collar around Sam's neck. '… or you can run along side.'

'I can ride.' Sam confirmed.

'Then that's settled. We will ride.' He looped the chain coming from the collar around a ring set into the wall and locked it into place. 'Soon. Say prayers… meditate… howl to the moon, do whatever it is that you do when you say goodbye. You have half hour at the most.' Taki strode away and then called back over his shoulder. 'Candy awaits the good dog.' He watched Sam nod. 'It might take longer… Spencer can be such a bitch sometimes.'

Sam didn't say a prayer as such. What he wanted to do was to contact Floyd, but that was strictly forbidden and he'd paid the price of trying that in a lot of pain and no candy. He wasn't going to risk it again. Not even to say _goodbye_ not even to save his own sorry arse because now he thought maybe his sorry arse was better off with Taki anyway. Taki had the good shit to give him and gave it in abundance. He wasn't always complaining and moaning at him for his little likes and dislikes. Taki had accepted him as he was.

Sam just didn't see what he was and what it was Taki had accepted. He couldn't see the way he'd bent and folded under Taki's gentle ministrations and become… a backstabbing son of a whore… at least that's what Floyd would have called him if Floyd ever saw him alive again and he'd probably call him that if he saw him dead too. There was no point in staying, Floyd would kill him.

Taki needed him though. Taki wanted a faithful companion who was more than willing to learn the skills needed to hurt people. Sam had said that he'd do that. Sam had offered to be an apprentice. He just needed time for his hands to heal and he'd be there dealing out the damage. He'd told Taki that he could use knives, guns, bits of barbed wire wrapped around a stick. He wasn't like Floyd who had promised away the use of weapons. Sam would be more than happy to work for Otikami! More than happy. Taki would keep Floyd away.

Because Sam was sure that Floyd was on his way.

Sam was equally sure that Taki knew that and that was why they were getting ready to leave… by horse?

o-o-o

Spencer's protest about leaving was inaction. He refused to wear what Taki had given him. 'No.' was the word most said.

'Why not?' Taki threw the red pyjamas to the floor.

'Because I'm not wearing that out in public.'

Taki kicked the red thing out of the way and nodded. 'Black. You will wear black?' He got a tired nod. 'Then that's good. I have black and you can ride a horse?' Again a nod. 'Brilliant stuff. And you can shoot arrows?' Taki was now looking amused.

'No, I've never really tried that.'

'I have finally found something you're not good at? Miracle.' Taki leaned in and gave Spencer a long deep kiss on the mouth. One which involved a hand on the back of Reid's head and a crushing of lips. Spencer didn't pull back. Pulling away just got the man wanting more and Spencer didn't want to give more than he'd given.

At least not yet.

o-o-o

For an hour, until the sun began to set, Floyd walked the streets muttering to him self. It was as though he had a bubble of avoidance wrapped around him. No one walked into him, no one got that close. Yet if you'd asked someone if they'd seen him, they wouldn't have remembered one slightly drunk looking homeless person (because that's how he was looking). He wasn't being offensive or causing a problem and Floyd was just not on any one's radar. His first port of call was Micky the drugs and porn man. He wasn't kept waiting.

'I need a couple of things and I need them quickly.' Floyd told the plump man with shoulder length dirty wavy hair and swimmy blue eyes. The sort of eyes which constantly watered. The sort of eyes you wanted to gouge out, but today Floyd needed something. No time for gouging.

'You know me Floyd. I'll get you what I can. Looking for boys? I've sweet flesh just…'

'No!' Floyd wanted to punch him now. Punch him hard. 'I don't want to know about your illegal flesh trading. I need a van. Mostly legal. I don't want it traced or tracked. I want dark blue and I need it to be reliable.'

Micky nodded. 'You transporting something? You want a cold room in the rear or bars? How secure?'

'I'll doest matter. Just a van with a lock on the rear. You can get that?'

There was a more enthusiastic nod this time. 'Sure I can. When do you want it by?'

'Approximately five minutes.'

The smile which had been forming on Micky's face slipped away slightly. 'You know the only van is the one I use to transport the boys in. That's all I have close to hand, Floyd. You know that. You cant be asking me for that.'

Floyd snapped out his hand. 'Keys. Now.'

The keys were slipped out of Micky's pocket and placed in Floyd's hand. 'It's round the back.'

'I know where you keep your shit Micky. There was something else I needed and I need it with as much speed as you provided me with the van. I'm kinda in a hurry.'

'I'll do what I can to help. You know that Floyd. I will always do what I can to help.'

Disgusting fawning blubbard. Floyd could smell the sweat of the man's revolting unwashed balls. 'A hand gun. Preferably a revolver, but I'll take anything you have on offer.'

Now Micky looked shocked. 'A gun?'

'Well yes Micky, I need a gun, because I'm going to go and I'm going to kill some people, then I'm going to put them in the back of the van and deliver them to someone who might give a shit, because I no longer do. So hop to it Micky. A gun. One which isn't going to take my hand off when I fire it. One which isn't going to misfire at all, and rounds which aren't going to pop as a blank. You understand?'

'Yes Floyd I understand.'

'Go then. I assume you have such an item?'

'I'll go get something for you.' The man's stink was beginning to make Floyd feel sick. He burped loudly and rapped his chest with a fist. 'Micky you're not moving!'

Micky turned and ran his wobbly almost run out of the store room they'd both been standing in.

o-o-o

'He's following.' Taki said as the three of them dressed rather strangely rode at a leisurely walk through the sparse woodlands.

Sam spun in the saddle and looked behind him. 'Who is?'

'Fun!' Taki replied. His hand went to the sword he was carrying on his belt and then he leaned slightly forwards and ran his hand along the neck of the fine dark brown horse he was on. 'You cant see him. He's a long way behind, but he will catch up eventually.'

'Floyd?' Spencer also was looking behind for a sign of someone there. They'd been riding now for most of the day. They light was dimming and it would soon be time to camp down.

'No one else would, don't you think?' Taki grinned. He had a quiver of arrows on his back and a bow in a holster on the side of the horse.

'He will kill you.' Spencer sighed.

'Absolutely not! He cant. He's insane with anger. He's really not thinking straight. But when does he ever? He never plans ahead. Never follows up anything he starts. He will probably get waylaid by some fancy in his head and forget what he's meant to be doing anyway. But don't worry about me. He wont kill me, Spencer. It's _you_ he's after and I might just have to protect you. Now wont that be an interesting turn of events?'

Sam was still looking behind him guiding the small but fast horse with his knees. 'And me?'

'You what?' Taki turned to look at Sam. 'Protect you?' Sam's eyes went wide. 'You're just my distraction for now. If you survive and I think you might, then we will carry on our travels together. Something to look forward to?'

'He will kill me if he gets the chance. I've not been the most faithful of dogs.'

'No you haven't. That's something which will always be in the back of my mind. One false move from you, Sam and I'll take your damned head off.' Again his hand drifted to the sword. 'We will keep moving for a few days. Get him all wound up and frustrated and then let him catch us. We will be easy to follow. He's a good tracker. I know that much. I also know that when angered he will be a worthy opponent. If he can keep his sanity for long enough.'

Spencer had thought about just riding off at a breakneck speed and getting away. It seemed like the perfect chance. Taki couldn't keep him _and_ Sam in control if they timed it and went off separately at the same time. But Taki seeming to be able to read Spencer's thoughts moved with a speed which made Spencer feel a bit sick and made Sam's nose run with awe. The bow was out of the holster, and arrow was in place and a bird was falling from the sky. It seemed to all take just one second to complete the whole thing. Riding away would be simple. Riding away and not getting an arrow in his back? Not so simple.

They tethered the horses up just as the sun drifted down and the moon started to make an appearance.

'He wont stop just because it's night.' Sam let Taki know.

'No. He will stumble through the night, getting bitten by insects and raging at himself and waving his fists at the moon. You're right. He wont stop; not until he's found us. Dog…' Taki flicked something over to Sam who was sitting tied to a tree. '… relax boy.' Sam picked up the little foil covered pill and popped it out of the plastic bubble. He gave it a cursory look and then crunched it between his teeth. He could move a couple of his fingers much easier now, but the little pill would still help him and stop that infernal throbbing.

'Do you want me?' Sam gave Taki a small flirtatious smile.

'No.' A firm answer and one Sam wasn't going to argue with, not when his head was beginning to feel so light and woozy.

Taki turned to Spencer and handed him a foil covered pack. It was peanut butter sandwiches. As Sam slipped sideways onto the floor next to the white horse he'd been given to ride, Spencer pulled the top layer of bread off the sandwich and did something which Sam did regularly and checked for extras like rat poison.

'I've been planning this for a while. You and I… alone… Floyd in hot angry pursuit. I didn't plan for the dog too, but no matter.'

Spencer nibbled around the edge of the sandwich. 'I don't understand what you want. What is this all about? Why are we running if you also want him to catch up?'

Taki smiled in the moonlight. His face looked oddly youthful and kind. 'I want him to _think_ that he caught up. I want him to become lazy. And he will. I know that much. He will follow our tracks. Find our old fires. He will see the empty food wrappings and bones. He'll find where we shit and get down on his knees and run his fingers over where we piss. He will think he's being smart. But it's a paper trail. If I could leave up neon signs pointing in the right direction I would! He will arrive all hot and bothered, but he will arrive full of his own wonderfulness. A false sense of greatness. And he will make mistakes.'

'He didn't make mistakes last time.'

Taki frowned and leaned back on the tree he was next to. 'Well actually he did. Because I have learnt from it. I know what he's going to do and I know what to do to avoid that outcome again.'

'He also knows what you did and he will learn from that. He wont just walk into a woodland clearing and let you kill him.'

'_Yes_ he will.' Taki told Reid.


	9. Chapter 9

9

The van he had taken from Micky was a good vehicle. Floyd had no complaints. The gun he had taken from Micky was also quite a good weapon, as far as it went. It didn't explode in his hand, which was a good thing for Floyd but not such a good thing for Micky. The last words he heard before the bullet took the top of his head off was something like… 'I've always had a strong dislike for paedophiles who trade in flesh.'

He had to test the gun on something, and slime like Micky was as good a target as any. That didn't alter the fact that it gave Floyd a very strong feeling of something akin to _guilt_. The breaking of a promise was punishable by a hefty beating, and as the promise not to carry weapons had been made to Spencer, then Spencer was going to have to smack him around for it, but… he had the gun for the soul purpose of killing Spencer. So if he was dead he'd not be able to deliver the punishment. That was going to have to come from somewhere else.

Taki, kept springing to mind.

Damned Taki… but that wasn't the person, or being he wanted to deliver the punishment for a broken promise. Oh no. Taki thought otherwise. Taki thought that he had one up on him, but no… Taki was as big a fool as ever. Taki had his boys… Taki was going to die. Floyd just wasn't sure how that was going to come about yet. You needed a demon weapon to kill a demon, not Micky's handgun.

However… Floyd thought as he pulled the van over into a lay-by on the old forest road, Spencer had been the root cause of his anger. Spencer and his frolicking around with Otikami. Spencer who couldn't keep his legs together and his arse against a wall… Spencer was the one who broke his side of the promise.

Therefore the promise was no longer binding.

Floyd rolled the gun over in his hand and sighed a bitter sigh. He'd carried guns before… in the past. In the distant past…

… in the _Time Before Spencer_… he'd carried guns… knives… but for Spencer, to keep him happy and to stop unfortunate accidents occurring again, Floyd said he'd never carry a weapon… _promised_ he wouldn't, and back then… how old was Spencer when he'd made that promise? Twelve? Fourteen? Not old enough to fuck, he at least knew that much. But well into the grooming process.

Sure Spencer had drifted before… but there's a fine line.

'Not so fucking fine the way I see it.' Floyd muttered to himself. 'A bloody big red glittery line… Between playing around in clubs and bars and letting Otikami have you… A line you shouldn't have crossed.' And besides, Spencer carried a gun… HA!

As for Sam?

Well dogs will return to the master quickly enough. You just had to know how to whistle. He wasn't worried about that. Sam would come running and Floyd could then place the barrel of the gun against the lad's eye and _BANG_! Would it kill him?

'Don't fucking care. It'll hurt though.'

Flanders started up the van again and continued his journey. He had a feeling that they were travelling more or less north west. He could catch up as close as he could by van and go by foot the rest of the way.

At least he'd blocked out Taki for now. Sam had other ways of sneaking in if he wanted to. He didn't need to contact Sam though, he could pick up on that whining buzz like you would tune into a distant radio signal. Sam was sending out a huge distress call. It looped and repeated constantly. Floyd wasn't even sure if Sam realised that he was doing it. Surely if Sam wanted to be with Taki, he'd not be pulling Floyd in? He wasn't sure… Sam wasn't subtle enough to use it as a lure. At least Floyd didn't think he was.

He filled up for gas at a small one pump place and picked up some rope, a good sized hunting knife and a canteen for water which he could attach to his belt. He thought that would be all he would need. He paid in cash, gave the spotty youth a small salute and then some words of advise.

'You need to see the world before you settle down to nothing. You should be out there getting a remedy for your bad skin and fucking the girls, not sitting here on your lazy arse squeezing pimples and looking at porn.' He then asked the lad for a bit of paper and a pencil. He wrote down a list of things which he could pick up easily enough in the woods, on the bit of paper and handed it back to him. 'There you go. When you get the chance, and I'd take it as soon as you can…' Floyd leaned over the counter towards the now terrified young man and ran a finger down his red lumpy angry skin… 'That's going to scar if you leave it. And stop fucking picking at it! Get that stuff…' He tapped the list he'd made. 'Crush it in a small bowl and add a small amount of water if needed. Then use it as a facial scrub. That skin will clear up in a week. Then you'll be free to go fuck some cunny. Have a good life…' Floyd flicked the young man's name badge with a dirty fingernail. '… John.'

'Yes sir and thank you.' He muttered between teeth which were trying to rattle together. He needed a pee. He needed one badly. He felt something on his face pop and the contents ooze down his cheek.

Floyd nodded at him. He thought this person might actually take up some of his advice. He slid an extra fifty over the counter. 'And get something new to wear. I mean new… not goodwill.'

'Sir.' A small quaking voice. He could see the gun stuffed in the belt of Floyd's jeans. And now that need to pee was almost too great.

But Floyd turned his back and walked out. John looked down at the bit of paper and slipped it into his breast pocket. The money went into a front jeans pocket. His need to pee had passed, unfortunately.

o-o-o

Taki had the idea that Sam could sleep alone, chained and locked to a tree and _he_ would spend the night with arms wrapped around Floyd's greatest love. Spencer had other ideas though. He didn't want Taki holding him. He didn't find it comforting or nice. It was greedy and dangerous. He moved away as Taki lay down behind him. Taki moved in close again and so Spencer sat up.

'I want to sleep. I cant do that if I am thinking that you're going to slit my throat. Please keep back. Go and comfort Sam.'

It wasn't really the response Taki had wanted. He wanted Spencer to be willing and it just wasn't happening yet. Taki also sat and stared across at Sam. 'He's diseased.' Taki told Spencer. 'He needs Flanders. He thinks he doesn't but he does. I thought I could have him as mine, but I'm not going to trust that thing. I cant trust him.'

Spencer said nothing, but he pulled the bedroll Taki had given him closer around his stupid black pyjama clothing. He was also thinking that Sam couldn't be trusted.

'I didn't have enough time. All this planning.' Taki shook his head. 'All these years of planning and he's still the one pushing.' He turned to look at Spencer. 'How does he do that? I feel I am one step ahead of him, always one step ahead. Yet somehow… maybe I'm only one step ahead because that's where he wants me.'

'What exactly did you plan on doing? You say that you're organised and not rushing off randomly as Floyd does…' Spencer looked around where they were. '…if I was with Floyd we'd be here also.'

Taki moved so that he was crouching, but he didn't take his eyes off Spencer. 'Carry on… tell me what you think?'

'What I think? I think you're as much of a brat as Sam is and I think you've made a grave error and you know it. I think you're running.'

Now Otikami stood. 'Running from Flanders? I'm not running from him.'

'Then let us stay here until he catches up. If you're not running and if you're not afraid, then stay here and wait for him to catch up.'

'He will miss out on the surprise if I do that. Sleep. I'll keep watch.' Taki moved away and sat in the middle of the small clearing.

o-o-o

The following morning Spencer awoke to see Sam sitting, rocking slowly back and forth and sobbing. That meant not much really as Sam would cry if he broke a fingernail, but there was also a crust of blood under his nose and his wrap around jacket thing was pulled apart. Sam was flashing his bruised and bitten boobs to the whole of the clearing. Something had happened whilst Spencer had been sleeping. He just didn't know what but he could take a damned good guess and probably be right. He thought about going over and giving Sam a quick hug, but decided against it. As Sam looked up at Reid, Spencer could see that Sam's eye, which never seemed to be looking in quite the right direction was swollen and half closed.

Spencer licked his lips and stood. The chains which had been holding Sam in place had been removed and were laying in a snake-like twisty loop off to the side. He walked slowly over to Sam and crouched down in front of him. 'Let me help you.' He reached out to pull Sam's jacket back into place. He thought Sam would protest and tell him to go away but he didn't. He just sat and watched Spencer as he pulled the jacket closed and tightened the little ribbons which held it in place. 'Did he hurt you?' Spencer asked him quietly, but Sam said nothing. He didn't nod or shake his head or move or even twitch. It was Spencer who nodded though. 'Have you eaten?' This time Sam's eyes moved from Spencer to over his shoulder. When Spencer turned Taki was standing there with a smile on his face.

'Good morning. You will assist in packing our things together. Sam will go and make sure that the horses are ready.'

Sam still didn't react verbally, but swiftly got to his feet and moved silently towards the horses which had been nibbling on short tufts of grass and bushes.

'What have you done to him?' Spencer hissed at Taki.

'Why would you give a damn what I've done to him? Please tell me that you're not jealous. You rejected me. What was I to do?' He looked at Spencer with great amusement.

'I'm not going to…'

'You are. Pack the things together. Flanders is catching up… we need to make some distance today.'

Sam had a good idea that Taki had realised that training him to be what Taki wanted him to be was going to take longer than a couple of days. He had a very good idea after what Taki had done to him the previous night that next time he'd be dead. He'd turned his coat once and let Floyd down, he'd done things to get Spencer into trouble… and now it was time to turn his coat back again and do something to prove that it was Floyd he wanted after all. Sam considered that sometimes you just had to see all of your options before you could begin to decide if you'd taken the right route. Sam considered that he'd take a hell of a lot of wrong routes and getting back in favour with Floyd was going to be a difficult and deadly process. And though Sam gave the impression of being a cowardly snivelling bit of shit, he actually was able to form a bit of backbone when he thought his number was well and truly up. Last night he'd drawn all the bad cards… all except for Taki actually breaking his neck, but he thought it had been horribly close. Too close. He wasn't still alive because Taki wanted him. He was still alive because Taki was using him to pull Floyd in.

Therefore with his spine in place and his thoughts firmly in his mind he set about part one of his cunning plan.

_I need a piss… I need a piss… I'm going to puke… I'm going to piss and puke… I feel ill… I don't want the berries… he's going to poison me. I need a piss I need a piss a piss apisspisspisspiss… Vomit- puke- upchuck and piss…_

He didn't even attempt to sneak the message out. Sam blasted it at full power as he stroked the horse Taki was going to ride.

Otikami was on him in a flash, dragging him away from the horse and shaking him by the shoulders. 'What are you doing?' He screamed into his face. 'What the hell are you doing?'

'N, nothing!' Sam managed to say between being shaken back and forth

'There's no need for that.' Spencer walked towards them ready to defend. Taki swung back behind him and caught Spencer squarely on the nose.

'There's every point! Keep away.'

Spencer let out a yelp of shock. It hurt! Something to do with the angle Taki had caught him at. Not enough to knock him over but more than enough to stop him and make his eyes pour with water. Taki's other hand was still holding onto Sam. He now turned to him and looked at him hard in the eyes. 'What is your game dog?' The fingers dug in to Sam's shoulder so hard that he thought they would pop through his skin.

'I don't know… I don't know what you mean! Let go! I need a pee and I feel sick.'

Spencer stood forwards again now with one hand over his nose. He didn't say anything, but he could see that Taki had loosened his grip on Sam slightly. His free hand was tugging at the tie holding Sam's trousers up. 'Go pee then dog.'

When Sam had wondered off away from the horses Taki turned once again to Spencer. 'Don't creep up behind me. Next time I'll take your stupid head off before I've realised who it is. I thought you'd know better.'

Spencer could see Taki's point. 'I assumed…'

'Assumed? Assumed what exactly.'

Reid swallowed. This was probably going to hurt him. 'That you were as skilled in woodcraft as Floyd. I assumed that you'd know it was me. Floyd would have. I'm sorry if I startled you. I'll certainly be more careful in future.'

It earned him a backhand around his face. Again not enough to do real actual damage, but enough to stun and stop him from talking and it stung, making the side of his face feel blazing hot. 'Be careful how you talk to me. I'm a better man than Floyd will ever be. Would even ever dream of being and as for you creeping up behind me…'

Spencer knew that Taki would have no answer to that one, and so just let it drop. Let the man brood over it.

As Floyd reached the last place he could take the van and keep going in the direction he needed to, he also received a loud and clear message from Sam that he needed to have a piss. He let the message flow through him and rested his head on the steering wheel, taking deep breaths and concentrating hard on not sending a _shut the fuck up_ message back. It was an odd thing for Sam to send. It wasn't a distress call. It wasn't a warning… but he felt it had meaning of some sort, and not the meaning Sam was sending him. 'Cryptic messages now huh? Are you hoping it will save your life? Too late.' He pushed open the door to the van and lit up a smoke. 'Probably too late.' He added as he inhaled the smoke and let it drift out again of his nose. 'Maybe too late? Is there ever a limit to when something becomes irretrievable? I guess we're going to have to wait and see… So Sam… you feel sick and want a piss. Why are you telling me this?'

Floyd had his leather pack bouncing on his back. He'd put the coil of rope inside it. The canteen was on his belt and full of cool spring water, the knife was in a small hand made scabbard next to the canteen, the gun was in a holster attached to a gun belt which had once been Sam's but now he was borrowing. And he thought he looked dangerously cool with the small leather thong tied around his upper thigh stopping the holster from bouncing. He had on dark jeans, a grubby white shirt and a black waistcoat. His boots were lace ups and black. Very scuffed. Hand made… hand made many years ago. Repaired constantly. He pulled a flat topped narrow brimmed hat on. 'To keep the brains in place. If in doubt wear a hat.' He muttered as he broke out into a jog. 'I'm on my way kiddies. I'm on my way… you ran off and didn't let me join in your game.'

_ My knees hurt, my knees hurt, I've got blisters on my arse, my ankles ache, I'm going to puke. The sun is too hot. I'm going to puke puke puke puke puke… PUKE! Fuck that hurt. Fucking bastard Fucktard motherfucking cunt!..._ Then the message Sam suddenly sent stopped. Floyd didn't stop his jog though. He had a funny idea that he knew what Sam was doing. He'd just have to wait to pick up on their proper trail to see if he was right. He grinned to himself and broke out into song… some old thing from his distant past somewhere….

"_Now is the month of maying,  
>When merry lads are playing, fa la,<br>Each with his bonny lads  
>Upon the greeny grass. Fa la.<em>

_The Spring, clad all in gladness,_  
><em>Doth laugh at Winter's sadness, fa la,<em>  
><em>And to the bagpipe's sound<em>  
><em>The nymphs tread out their ground. Fa la.<em>

_Fie then! why sit we musing,  
>Youth's sweet delight refusing? Fa la.<br>Say, dainty nymphs, and speak,  
>Shall we play at barley-break?<em> _Fa la_."

The song repeated over and over again each time his 'Fa la' somehow becoming fuelled with more happiness than the last… His annoyed grimace slowly became a smirk and then turned into a predatory grin. 'Fa la!' He finished a verse and took a drink of water. 'Fa fucking la… I'm on my fucking way Fa la!' He hunkered down and touched the ground. There were no signs that they'd actually been on this bit of ground but they weren't far… oh no… not far at all. Just a little bit too far, but not fa la la away enough. 'Horses?' He cocked his head to one side. 'Oh that's interesting Taki my dearest. Very interesting. At least I feel it should be interesting… Are you listening in to my thoughts you stinking thieving despoiling nip? Are you there you dirty little zipper-head? Want to hear a song?' He made sure he had everything attached to his belt, double checked the knife…_The knife the knife check check check check… oh my arse, my knees… my hands, my poor hurting hands…._

'The knife.' Floyd's hand flicked again to the hilt of the hunting knife and he frowned. 'Very well… the knife. I know it wont kill him. Stop worrying about it little one and worry about yourself. He broke out into song again, the same song – meant to annoy the hell out of anyone trying to listen into his thoughts.

o-o-o

They rode through open woodlands at a steady trot. Taki would dearly have liked to have gone faster but Sam seemed to keep sliding sideways. The dog had no riding sense at all and was now complaining that it was making his knees and feet ache, and that his backside was sore. Though the reason for that was more likely to have something to do with what happened during the previous evening. They would clear this area soon though. Taki knew exactly where they were going and though it might have seemed like a random flight from Flanders, it most certainly wasn't. When the trees spread out even further apart, Taki offered to tie Sam to the saddle so that they could go a bit faster. Sam declined the kind offer but complained again that because his hands were useless and smashed he couldn't use the reins and that made his legs sore. He said that the horse was not trained properly… and then he went quiet. Sam didn't want to say too much. He needed to keep a buzz going in his head and keep everything else out. They did manage though to carry on at a slow canter until it was time to bed down once again.

'He'll catch up.' Sam told Taki and was ignored.

There was every possibility that Floyd could catch up. They weren't moving as fast as Taki would have liked it and now Spencer was complaining of stomach cramps and refusing to help sort the camp or horses. He just sat with his legs folded in front of him and watched Taki do all the work. He also watched Sam, not too closely, because Spencer was sure that Sam was stalling Taki. Why he would attempt to stall Floyd first and now Taki he wasn't sure, but he was very sure that Sam's hands were not as bad as he was making out. He watched from the corner of his eye when Taki was brushing the horses down and he saw Sam slowly but very surely moving his hands from a wide open palm, to a fist. And he was doing it repeatedly. Spencer moved his attention away from Sam and watched Taki and occasionally gripped his stomach and made a little moaning sound. If Sam had something planned he didn't want to know what it was, but he was also quite prepared to assist him in any way he could. Refusing to do any work seemed like a good move.

Again that night Sam was secured to a nearby tree. He yelped and moaned and begged Taki not to hurt him. He said he'd not run away. He told him that he hated being treated like this. What had he done to deserve this… He went on in the same manner for about an hour until Taki pulled a knife and told him he'd slit his throat if he carried on.

Sam shut down, lay down and made little sobbing noises until Taki finally gave Sam his little pink pill. Sam slipped it between his lips, rolled over with his back to them, and spat it out onto the ground. He then carefully covered it over, closed his eyes and finally slept.

Again Taki lay down with Spencer. This time Spencer told him that he was feeling quite ill and needed to be left alone. Tonight though Taki insisted and wrapped arms around Spencer and pulled him close. He whispered things into Spencer's ear and nibbled on it. He carried on until he could feel the heavy sleeping breaths coming from Reid and then gave up. He wasn't really in the mood himself tonight. He'd wanted to tease him and have Spencer want him, so that he could throw it back in Floyd's face, but it just wasn't working. Taki didn't sleep. He eventually moved away from Spencer and sat as he had done the night before, between Sam and Spencer. Floyd was much too close. He wasn't going to reach where he was going if tomorrow they didn't move fast.

'All these years of planning.' He spoke at the few stunted trees. 'All these years and I'm going to be held back by the dog.' He looked over at Sam. 'But I need you as a lure. I need you. This time tomorrow though… this time tomorrow I wont need you.'

Sam listened to Taki's words and his stomach jumped and knotted in panic. He'd wanted more time to formulate his plan properly, but if he could undo in one day, something which Taki had taken years to create, then he would die happy. He smiled and curled up tighter.

Floyd didn't sleep either. He carried on through part of the night and the moon was large and bright. There were now signs that they'd passed this way. Horse droppings, little bits of things dropped or discarded. When the moon went behind some clouds he stopped and hunkered down. The song was still in his head, playing on a loop which had become nonsense… He felt safe from prying minds though. But this was wrong. He prodded a bit of discarded foil which had once been wrapped around a sandwich. If it had been him and he knew someone was trying to follow he would have been far more cautious. There was also the empty bubble where a pill of some sort had been. Floyd couldn't read the lettering as the bubble had been torn from a longer strip, but after sniffing and licking at it, he guessed it was some kind of sedative. It was all very wrong though. The old discarded glove he'd found half an hour before… The way the horses seemed to have gone through every soft bit of land, marking the way. It was a trap and he knew it was, but what else to do but to keep on going. Spencer was still alive. Sam was still alive.

His only option was to completely forget the pair of them, imagine that they were already dead and start his Jack Grooming Process, which he'd already set slowly in motion. Floyd scratched at his neck and dropped the bits of discarded junk onto the woodland floor. 'The man is either an idiot or a fool. Either way is good for me.' He stayed exactly where he was, hunkered down and thinking of long peaceful nights alone with Spencer. He could deny it all he wanted, but Spencer was going to be coming home with him. He fiddled with the gun for a while and considered dumping it, but placed it back in the holster. He pulled out the hunting knife and jabbed at the ground and wondered what it was Sam was planning. He had a thought that it had nothing to do with the knife he was him self carrying. Did that mean that Sam had one? Had Taki been fool enough to give Sam a weapon? He didn't think that was it either. As the clouds parted just before dawn, Floyd stood, his knees popped, he pressed his hands against the small of his back and stretched. He planned on catching up today at some point. What happened when he got there would much depend on what mood he was in and how Spencer and Sam reacted to him. He ran a finger over the butt of the revolver and sighed. 'I don't want to kill you Spence, but I will. If I think you've turned from me, then I will.'

He ran. He ran at a pace which had been shown to him by an love many decades… (centuries) ago. He could keep this pace up all day and night if he had to. Though he knew that Taki was showing him which way to go and wanted to be caught. Why else would he leave such an obvious trail to follow? He could have followed anyway. He could have found the way, but it wouldn't have been quite as fast. He would have had to stop and take in the scent in the air and feel at the ground and sense the direction, but Taki had made it so he didn't have to. And this bothered him.

o-o-o

After Sam had been unlocked from his tree he wandered over to the horses. Taki had all ready begun the process of saddling them up. Taki's horse had a lot of bits jangling off various harnesses. One of those things was a small knife. It was partially hidden by a flap which had the bow holster attached to it.

'Nice horse.' Sam spoke and lifted a swollen bruised hand to the beasts velvety nose. He walked around it touching it gently with hands which looked broken and unusable, but which were in much better condition than he'd been letting on. He turned and saw Taki picking up bedrolls. Spencer was again being a pain and refusing to assist, claiming loudly again that he had stomach cramps. It was a good enough distraction and probably the only one Sam would get. He slid the knife quickly out of its home, turned away and hunkered down. He had no intention of keeping the thing. That idea had never even crossed his mind. He pushed it down into the soft earth as far as it would go and for once, luck being on Sam's side he was able to get it almost all the way down. About an inch of the hilt stood out from the ground. Sam stood. Placed a foot on it and pushed it down the rest of the way…

'What are you doing?'

'Fuck.' Sam muttered to himself and quickly started to pull at the cord holding his pants up. 'I need a piss. Sort of urgently. I cant get a hold of this thing properly.'

His words made Taki guffaw. 'Poor little prick too small to manage?'

'I meant the damned ties! But yes… poor little prick too. It needs a leak.'

'You want someone to hold it for you? There you are Spencer. Something which wont cause you too much strain. Help him.'

Spencer let out a groan and Taki walked towards the side of his horse. He couldn't see the expression on Sam's face, but Spencer could and it was one of panic. Reid placed a hand on Sam's shoulders and told him to turn around. He would help, but he didn't want to touch Sam where it might be required.

'You know I fucking well hate you.' Sam hissed at Spencer.

'I know. Stand still and let me help.'

'I need you to do something for me.'

'I know. Stand still.'

'After I've had my pee.' Sam looked over his shoulder at Spencer. 'It's important.'

'I'm listening.'

Sam took a couple of steps back and looked down at where he was urinating. 'I've done something and I don't want that fuck to know.' Spencer remained silent. 'I'm not going to tell you, but he'll know. So I need you to knock me out. Smack me one real hard, but I want you to knock me out cold.'

'What?' Spencer quickly tied Sam's pants up again for him.

'Think of a reason. Quickly! Distract the cunting fucker!'

Spencer opened his eyes wide and glanced at Taki who was checking over the gear on the horses again. He pulled a fist back… 'You dirty beast!' Spencer shouted and smacked Sam as hard as he could in the face with a closed fist. And it felt good. I felt so damned good to do that. He'd had many a smack of that kind from Floyd. He knew the best places to make contact. In the same way Taki knew where to punch and _not_ knock someone out, Spencer knew exactly where to hit and keep someone quiet for a number of hours. Sam rocked back where he was standing. There was an odd smile on his face and then he crumpled to the floor.

Reid turned to look at Taki, who had one hand on the bow holster, but was now looking at Spencer with raised eyebrows.

'He touched me.' Spencer spat. 'He moans all day anyway. I'll tie him to the horse.'

'Well I would have previously thought that you'd never do such a thing, but you've got quite a lot of hidden anger.'

Spencer hoisted Sam off the ground and carried him to the horse. 'My anger isn't all that well hidden recently. I try to keep it under control, but this situation…' He put his hand out towards Taki. 'I need something to tie him down with. Rope? Cord? Anything?'

'You want to spend your day flopped over a saddle too? Mind how you talk to me.'

'Apologies! But I'm not in the best of moods.'

Taki tied Sam's horse to his own. Spencer mounted up and waited impatiently. He had a feeling that they needed to clear the area quickly. He had no idea what Sam had done or when it would come into play, but he'd certainly done something. Spencer hoped he'd picked the stitching of Taki's saddle or something cunning. As Sam was secured down they were able to move faster. Much faster. The woodlands had given way to scrub land and now there just seemed to be endless miles of long grass with a foggy line of trees a long way off in the distance. They were moving away from Floyd again. And they were moving very fast towards those trees. There were birds flying across a blue sky, the thundering of hooves, the clattering of Taki's harness and the arrows in his quiver. Whatever Sam had done Taki hadn't yet noticed it. And the saddle hadn't fallen apart yet. There was always hope. But that dwindled as the day grew longer and that strip of trees got closer.

If Floyd was going to follow they'd see him coming. He'd not be able to avoid being seen in the grasses. It wasn't so long as to completely conceal someone unless they were crawling. And Floyd rarely crawled for anyone.

**a/n: **

**Now Is the Month of Maying by Thomas Morley**

**I changed one word to suit Floyd's mood.**


	10. Chapter 10

10

Floyd slowed down his relentless jog just before mid-morning. He could sense something up ahead. It wasn't his boys and it wasn't Otikami, but it was some_thing_ and it was waiting for him. He stood with his head cocked slightly to the side as though listening for something and then started a slow walk forwards, keeping his eyes fixed slowly on the ground. To Floyd it felt like maybe a trap had been laid for him, though he didn't sense danger as such, but some kind of oddity. The place the lads had camped down for the night was easy to find. The horses had churned up a small area, and there were again, bits left around for him to see. He didn't walk right through this small area though, he circumnavigated it slowly, looking at the bushes, the occasional crushed plants, the broken stalks of plants. Once he'd done his first circle he stepped forwards into the area.

There didn't seem anything obviously wrong, but the place had a very odd feel to it. It made his balls tingle with something akin to danger, yet not quite. He hunkered down and felt the ground with fingertips. He breathed in the air and got a strong smell of urine and horse crap, man sweat, pain, fear and just a small twinkling of that danger again, but maybe not danger to him? He stood and pushed his hat back off his head. The thong rested on his throat and the hat bounced on his backpack. Floyd took a drink of water and then started a slow search. Sam had kept going on about being sick and needing a piss. There didn't seem to be any sign that anyone had puked. The air was free of that acidic taste, but the smell of his boys was strong. He made his way to where he could smell Sam the strongest. He could also sense confusion here, more of that danger, even some sort of spite mixed with pleasure.

The day was warm. The clouds were there but high and scudding quickly. No sign of rain. Which was good. At least for Spencer, Sam and Floyd it was good. Not so good for Taki. Floyd's fingers brushed over the ground where Sam had urinated with Spencer's assistance. It was like being zapped by one of those fences to keep the cattle in, or to keep trespassers out. Floyd dug down with his fingernails where the feeling was the strongest. He didn't have to go far to see that something had been pushed hard into the ground, and though the weather had been reasonably dry this bit of land was soft and sandy. He ran fingertips over the top of the knife hilt and grinned. 'Oh… oh Sam you sweet wonder!' He now quickly dug down and pulled the knife out of the ground. It was a short slightly curved blade, razor sharp, engraved beautifully, a slender straight hilt with deep but ancient designs, demonic; certainly demonic. Floyd held it in his hand and turned it over taking in every little mark and squiggle. He held it up in the light and watched the sun glinting off the lovely object. 'Otikami.' Floyd muttered. 'Today you will die by your own blade. I hope you're ready for this.' He removed the hunting knife he'd been carrying and after wrapping it in old bits of ripped up cloth which he always carried with him, he placed it into the side pouch of his bag. The new knife which Sam had hidden for him was placed in the small scabbard. It fitted perfectly. Almost too perfect for it to be accidental. Floyd again run fingertips lightly over the metal hilt and then started his jog again. He didn't know what else had gone on here, but that didn't matter. Nothing seemed to matter now. Otikami was going to die. That was the only thing Floyd wanted to think of. He didn't try to hide that thought behind the words of an ancient song, he let his mind open and he fired out some thoughts. 'You're going to die.' Then with that spinning in his head he carried on his journey. He was closing in. They were moving slowly – at least until now they had been – but as Floyd reached the beginnings of the grass he could tell that they'd sped up considerably. He had pulled his hat back on again and with the brim shielding his eyes from the sun he looked across the grasslands where a thick rich triple line cut through like some fancy arsed pattern shaved into the side of a young and not very bright youth's hair. He could see that the line lead straight forwards and towards trees in the far distance. He couldn't see the riders though.

'So you will watch me coming.' Floyd muttered to himself. 'You will watch me then start a barrage of something before I'm even within range to get my fingers up your nose. Really not fair play now is it?' The land elevated slightly too. The wind was blowing very lightly in Floyd's face. Taki had all the advantages on his side. All but the smell. Floyd would smell Taki first. 'But what's the fucking point in being able to smell the fucker if I cant see him?' And so once again he hunkered down and did some considering. 'I could go around and come in from behind them, but I don't know how far they will go. Are they going to carry on through the woods over there? Are they going to stand their ground up there on that ridge? Are they just moving on in to find some place to camp? Is this where they are heading? – in which case I should go around and come in from behind? But if they are carrying on then there is no danger.' He stood up and pulled a cheroot out of his pocket and looked again. Even though there was a slight mist over the grass it would have been possible to see three riders. Floyd was very sure of that. 'Decision made.' Floyd moved onwards. He chose the left hand tracks, as Floyd thought they'd be from the horse Spencer was riding. He thought Sam would want to ride to the left as his right eye was pretty much fucked and Taki would ride centre. So yes, he took the left hand track… and Floyd had been right about it too. It was from Spencer's horse.

o-o-o

Taki didn't stop for lunch this day. Sam wasn't whining about food, he actually seemed to still be out from the thump Spencer gave him. Taki did rein up when the trees were in full focus and taking up the whole of the view in front of them. Rich dark trees which looked as though they'd stood there since the beginning of time.

The horses stood on the slope they'd been moving slowly up at an angle. Taki turned slightly in his saddle and looked at Spencer. 'And all of this could have been yours.' He announced.

Spencer frowned and looked at what Taki was gesturing at. 'The woods? Why would I want that? I'm a city boy. I like the bright lights and noise of Vegas.'

The smile fell away from Taki's face. 'Moot point now. I'm going to offer it all to Floyd.'

Spencer shook his head. 'This is yours?'

'The land belonged to an old family… in as much as the family had held the land for generations, but they ran out of money and they ran out of love. The land was put up for sale along with the house. I had the house pulled down and then I landscaped things as I needed them to be.'

It was very interesting. Taki had purchased an old parcel of land and pulled a house down, then planted some flowers. Why he was telling Spencer this, he didn't know. Reid looked up at the trees and then back at Taki again. 'Why would you want to give this to me? You want me dead. You intend killing me within the next couple of days. Why would it have even crossed your mind to give this to me? And the same goes for Floyd. You think he's going to do something to end his life… so why give him this…' Spencer was genuinely curious but he could see the annoyance of Taki's face.

'Too many stupid questions.' He snapped back. 'You'd never understand. I can see that now. You are shallow and you have no understanding of how Flanders thinks. You don't know him like I do.'

Reid laughed aloud. He put a hand to his face to try to hide the amused look which had landed it self there. 'You really think highly of yourself don't you? You think that a friendship formed over nearly two decades by Flanders is going to be wiped out because you bullied me into offering you sex? You really think that?'

There was no more to be said. Taki tugged on the rope attached to Sam's horse and rode onwards. 'You will follow or I will just shoot you dead from where I'm mounted.' A hand stroked the bow as a warning. Sam let out a little groan and they were off up the remainder of the slope and into the thick woodlands. It was a well managed woodland. The place seemed to have been cared for and not permitted to let run wild. Taki stopped the train of horses again when they were through the first ten foot or so of trees and began to pull the harness off his horse. 'We walk from here. Get the dog awake and if he wont you must carry him. Un-harness the mounts and place the things here…' Taki pointed at the ground. 'The horses can go free for now. They will return if they're needed. Move yourself. I want to be in place before it's too dark. Tomorrow Flanders will be here. I want everything perfect.'

Sam was awake and had been for a while, but he'd been listening and trying his best to watch what was going on. As he was tied over the horse like a sack of grain he was able to glance back occasionally and not be seen, but so far he'd seen no sign of Floyd. He was beginning to wonder if Floyd was going to come get them. He was beginning to wonder if he should try to be nicer to Spencer, just in case Floyd wasn't actually on his way. Taki was going to notice his missing knife pretty soon and Sam was going to need someone on his side when the shit hit the fan. He therefore let out a soft moan and gave Spencer a wink when he felt the bonds untying. 'Protect me from him.' The words were said almost as a sigh, but they were said… or maybe Sam just mouthed the words, but Spencer still nodded.

'Of course.'

Why _of course_? Spencer wasn't sure, but, yes he would protect him. Possibly to his detriment but he still would. He attempted to see Sam as a victim. Not easy. Really not easy at all, but he still found he was rubbing Sam's feet for him trying to return some life where the blood had been cut off by the tight cords around his lower legs.

'He's going to kill us isn't he.' It wasn't really a question and Spencer didn't feel he needed to answer it.

'Can you walk?' He put a hand out so Sam could stand.

'My hands…' Sam looked at them. The tips were going a nice pick colour. The bruising going down nicely. '… my hands are useless. I cant use them.' He glanced at Taki and saw that he was still gathering his things together, he then looked at Spencer and pulled both hands into fists. 'My little fingers are broken.' Again words which seemed to just be on his breath. 'I can pull a bow.' His eyes flicked to Taki and back to Spencer again. 'I'm going to die, but I'll be damned if I'll go willingly. This dog will die fighting.'

Spencer nodded. 'Very well.' His voice was spoken in a tone which would carry to Taki if needs be. 'Come, I'll help you walk. Put an arm around my waist.'

So that's how they were when Taki turned with an expression on his face as though someone had just announced that he was a fool. He stared at the pair of them and took three paces forwards. One of them, and he wasn't sure which, had taken something of his. One of them had stolen from him. Which one of them would have the balls to do that? Which one was the mouthy one who thought he could talk to him in an impolite manner? Which one? And where was the knife now? Taki glanced in the direction they'd come from and then back at Spencer and Sam who were both watching him closely. It was a sweet scene if you didn't know otherwise. Spencer and Sam were standing in front of their mounts which were nibbling happily on grass, wild flowers were bursting up under their feet in blues and yellows, the sun was glinting off their hair like they were a pair of woodland nymphs come to tempt him. Tempt him they could try, but Taki thought that he might have bitten off more than he could chew.

'I know what you've done.' He hissed at them both. 'One of you will die here. You will be a marker for Flanders to find. I just don't know which of you two did it. I think… I do think though that the dog wouldn't have the courage to do something so insanely stupid.'

Sam's eyes narrowed and Spencer's widened. 'I don't know what you mean. I've not don't anything.' Spencer told him.

Now Sam's eyes went wide. 'Well it wasn't me either! What are we meant to have done?'

Taki's eyes went from one to the other but they returned to Sam and rested there. 'Spencer, move away from him.'

'No. I'm sorry Taki, but if something has happened which has spoiled your plan then I'd like to know what it is before…'

'Shut your mouth! Both of you… all these distractions and messing with me… what for? What did you think you'd gain from taking my knife? What the hell possessed you to do that?'

Again Spencer's eyes went wide and Sam's narrowed. The reaction was all Taki needed.

One second Sam was there with an arm wrapped around Spencer's waist and the next he was gone. Spencer let out a yelp of surprise, but Sam didn't make one tiny squeak. Something warm and wet sprayed up the back of Spencer's head, but he didn't move. He just stood staring at Taki who had been wearing a sword at his belt and no longer was. Spencer blinked and placed his hand on the back of his head. It came away warm, red and wet. Slowly and carefully Spencer turned. He caught a flash of black clothing, pale skin… and a mess of dark hair and then Taki was shoving him to the side with an elbow.

'Now take my warning Spencer. Fuck me around and you're dead.'

Sam didn't feel pain as such. He felt surprise and shock and then a weird kind of flying feeling along with a peculiar sensation of being drained… drained of energy and life. Something was sticking in his neck and that thing was it self stuck into the tree behind him. His feet were on the ground and his knees were slightly bent. He managed to get one hand to the sword sticking out of his neck before the world started to go funky colours and his limbs started to shake. He wanted to scream and shout and curse Spencer. Hadn't he just said he'd protect him? Had Spencer not just that minute said he would? And where was Spencer? Well Spencer wasn't pinned dead to a damned tree. He could hear someone shouting something but he wasn't sure if it was real or just what he wanted to be doing. Then there was a complete lack of anything at all.

Spencer grabbed the back of Taki's clothing as he walked by Spencer to get to Sam. 'No!' Spencer growled at him. 'What the hell did you do that for? He's been unconscious all day. He's done nothing! If you've lost something then you've probably left it behind yourself.'

'Get your hands off me!' Taki now swung around and with one hand on Spencer's chest he shoved him back out of the way. 'You have to ruin everything! You have to spoil it!' He howled at Spencer. He didn't pursue him, he allowed Spencer to step backwards. There was nowhere he could go but through the woods or back down the hill. Either way Taki would find him. 'Run and you die too.' Otikami turned back to Sam, grabbed the hilt of the sword he'd thrown, and with a foot on Sam's stomach he dragged it out. Sam toppled forwards onto his face and one fast movement had the sword over Taki's shoulder.

'No… please don't. Just leave him here. Don't do that. You don't need to do that.'

'I should.' But Taki seemed to relax slightly. 'I should take his head and put it on a spike for Flanders. I should impale the little shit up the damned arse.' He flicked blood off his sword and replaced it in the scabbard. 'Come here.' Taki gestured for Spencer to step closer. 'Come here Spencer.'

'I'm not going to take his head either. Just leave him there. You've proved what you are. I'm not going to run. I'll do what you want, but leave him alone.'

Taki pulled the sword again. It was such fast movement that Spencer didn't even see his hand move. He prodded at Sam with it. More than prodded, he began slow careful downwards stabbings firstly between Sam's shoulder blades and then just below his ribs.

'Just stop it!' Spencer cried out. 'Leave him alone!'

'Then come to me.' Again he flicked blood off the blade and re-sheathed it.

Spencer took a step forwards. He wasn't prepared to just walk to his death. He was still trying to take in the fact that Sam had actually done something to try to help and had died for it, and what had Spencer done? Well nothing much at all! He'd let this happen. 'You had something you were going to show us. Maybe you should just leave Sam and show me. Floyd will know what you've done.'

'Come to me.' Taki stood now with a foot either side of Sam. Quickly he ducked down and ran hands over Sam's back and sides. Taki knew that if Sam had the weapon on him he'd be able to sense it. The knife wasn't there and nor was Spencer. 'I'm losing my temper with you Spencer. Come to me now!'

'No. Whatever it is you want you'll have to do it alone. I'm not assisting you in this madness.'

Taki had wanted Spencer to come to him and sit on the dog and he'd wanted to rub against him and taste Spencer's frightened mouth, because Taki could feel the fear running off Spencer like butter would run off a hot knife. There was no time to play though. Not really. He stood and flipped Sam onto his back, checked once more that there were no weapons and then moved down and grabbed him by the ankles. 'Wait here. If you try to leave I will come after you and I promise that your demise will not be so swift.' He waited for Spencer to nod then Taki walked off dragging Sam behind him, in the direction they'd just come from.

Spencer knelt on the soft grass and tried not to look at the blood trail going off in the direction Taki had dragged Sam. He let himself cry. Even though he had tried to dislike Sam and even though Sam had obviously disliked _him_ it still felt as though part of him had just died too. What he really wanted to do was to curl up and scream and rip the grass out by the roots and hurl it around. He'd said he'd protect him and he'd failed. And Floyd was on his way and would know that he'd failed. He looked up and peered in the direction they would be walking and wondered exactly what surprise Taki had there waiting. He wasn't expecting it to be anything very nice. He stood when he heard Taki's footsteps returning. At first he thought nothing of it, but actually being able to hear Taki was something akin to a miracle. Spencer glowered at Taki but dared not say anything. He tried to believe that it was because he was doing the sensible thing. If he was going to get out of this alive he was going to have to do as he was asked, but was that also the cowards' route? Spencer licked his lips and watched Taki who was now picking up things off the floor. He had his bow, arrows on his back, sword at his side, a knife on his belt and now he was strapping something on his arms and across his chest like crossed gun belts but these were loaded with small sharp throwing knives and not bullets. Taki was also holding a bit of twine in his hands.

'Lack of trust.' Taki announced. 'It's dreadful. I thought you'd have accepted me by now.' He waggled the twine in front of him.

'Accept you for what?' Spencer asked him. 'Because if you thought I'd turn by back of Floyd so easily…'

'I did. Come here and put your hands behind your back. I don't want to have to dump your carcass down the there too. Move it.' Taki watched Spencer walk a few uneasy steps towards him. 'And you've betrayed that lover of yours already. You willingly let me have you. All it took was a few slaps and you were mine. An easy little slut and knowing what Flanders is like I'm not surprised he likes you, but I did think what I gave you was better than his filth.'

Spencer walked closer. 'I've known Floyd for more than half of my life. Why do you think I would turn so easily? What do you really think you have which he doesn't?'

'Well just about everything. But irrelevant now. Turn and hands behind you.'

They had been walking for about half a mile when they heard Floyd. At least Spencer assumed that's what the dreadful wailing howling sound was.

o-o-o

The grass was easy to cross for Floyd. He pulled his hat down hard to keep the sun off his head and some of the insects away from his face and he ran down the trail left by one of the horses. The grass in many places had died and become a brown stunted thing and not the rich lush darkness it would become when it started to rain again.

He was about half way across when he felt it. He put a hand to his neck, leaned forward and coughed once and then puked violently. He fell back onto his butt, pushed off his hat and put his hands to his head and moaned. He could feel his heart beating manically in his chest, but it wasn't from the running… it was from something else. It was from having part of your life being torn out of you without warning. He tried to concentrate but the pain was so intense and sudden that all Floyd could do was sit there and moan and let his eyes water for a while. He wondered if something had happened to Spencer. He thought that's what he was feeling, but as he moved to get to his knees and his fingers brushed on the demon knife Sam had left for him it seemed more likely to Floyd, that it was Sam who had just met his maker (again.) Floyd sent out a quick fast message.

_Sam?_

There was nothing there. Not even a slight buzz or hiss, no loop of words to confuse someone listening in, nothing, a complete blank.

_Spencer?_

This time there was something… not words but feelings… a deep overpowering grief and quite a large amount of panic.

'The mother fucker killed Sam? Surely not. That wasn't his plan.' Floyd stood now and looked over the grasses. 'So something went wrong. Sam took your knife and you found out. Nice one Taki. Nice. But didn't you want him as your dog? Have you discovered that my boys are more loyal to me than you thought they would be? So… you've slowed. You've killed Sam… now what?' He started his jog forwards again. 'You think I'm going to rush in all distressed and fucked up in the head. You think I'm going to shoot Spencer and try to kill you and fail. Well you've got a mother of a shock coming to you then.'

And he kept up this steady pace until he saw the thing laying in the grass.

It was then that Floyd let out his howl. He sat in the grass with Sam over his lap and he let out curses and the sound was like something was dying a million times. He stroked Sam's hair and touched the wound in his neck. He pulled the plastic wrap off his arms and kissed each of his fingers. He pulled the canteen of water off his belt and washed away what mess he could and then he lay Sam in the grass with hands resting on his chest… one eye looking up at the sky and the other which was slightly closed was looking at his nose. 'Damn you Otikami. Another thing to stall me. You think I'm going to spend time fucking with him, ripping him apart… but no. Not this time.' Floyd walked in a circle picking some wild flowers and placed them in Sam's hands. He bent over him and gave him a kiss on the lips and then closed his eyes. 'Don't care what happened or why it happened. I don't give a toss if Spencer smashed your face in once or if I left you to die the next time. He had no right to do this. No fucking right.' He sat again. 'So Sam… tell me. What did Otikami want? Did Spencer fight him off? Did you die because you took this knife?' Floyd pulled it from his belt and looked at it again. 'Then Otikami will die by it. I'll avenge you. You're mine.' Floyd stood again, gave Sam his salute and turned to run up the slope Sam had been tossed down. Though he was sort of pissed that Sam was dead, it also filled him with joy that someone had died to help him. It's just a small selfish idea, but Floyd thought it was rather nice… A splendid reason to die.

o-o-o

They burst through the edge of the trees into what seemed to Spencer a totally surreal world carved out of the forest. The grass was bright green, damp and lush, the trees all seemed to have blossom on them and the smell was exotic. There were birds singing in the trees, butterflies flying around, and the sound of a river running over stones… But it was all so out of place. Like a stage set. He felt that he'd be able to reach out and touch the painted backdrop.

'What?' Spencer muttered, not knowing what else to say.

Taki had pulled Spencer up to stand next to him, but he still had a tight grip on the cord around Spencer's wrists. 'When Floyd goes off into his own head, this is where he comes.' Taki grinned. 'This I know because I've been there. He knows I've been there. Such a lark.' Taki pushed Spencer forwards a bit. 'It would have been nice to have shown Sam what the great lover and killer Flanders thinks of as the perfect place to be. He's been searching… Floyd has been, for eons… and never found it, so I being the kind thoughtful person that I am, created it for him. What do you think?'

Spencer crouched down and looked more carefully at the grass. 'Plastic grass?'

'Well yes! The birds are real though, and I got butterflies shipped in. What a fucking loser wanting this shit.'

'Plastic trees?' Spencer was looking up at the all too perfect branches.

'Obviously.' A shark like grin. 'Oh he's going to be so delighted that after all this time he's finally found his perfect place on this dirt ball of a planet! He will adore me. The scent is not too over powering is it? I was unsure of the settting.'

'I'm sure it's all just right. Can you untie me now?'

'He will be here soon Spencer. We need to set the scene perfectly for him, so yes… I will untie you and you will stand right here and you will look amazed.'

'Amazed… I think I can do that.' Spencer quipped back.

'Sarcasm doesn't suit you. You will see what Flanders does. Any last prayers you wish to make you should do so now.'

'You actually…' Spencer stopped talking. He didn't want to put doubt in Taki's mind, but if he thought that Floyd was going to appreciate this then he was very much mistaken. He could feel something vibrating under his feet and gave Taki a curious look. 'A generator?'

'To pump the water. There was no natural river. I had to have it built.'

Spencer nodded. 'What a splendid idea.' He felt Taki's hand on his shoulder.

'Kneel.'

And he did knowing that now they were here and Taki's fragile madness had taken a new twist that he'd not remove his head. Not make a mess on this fine plastic grass. Listening more carefully now he thought that the sound of the birds was a recording… maybe the butterflies weren't real either? A strange place Taki had created. Spencer smirked thinking that Taki's odd taste in things and his name suited each other very well. He was also glad that Sam wasn't here. Sam would have screamed with laughter. Sam wouldn't have been able to keep a straight face. Sam would have made a big mess on the lovely ever green grass.

Spencer sighed and hoped that one day Sam could do that.

Spencer would help him. He managed a small smile at the thought and then remembered the way Sam had been spiked to the tree and again Spencer let the tears fall.

Ten minutes later Floyd arrived.


	11. Chapter 11

11

'A paradise meant for me

Which no one else was meant to see.

Upon this grass I stand and wonder,

Why you set my place asunder?

My dog he sleeps and waits for me,

As I stand here under this flower'd tree

My lover, my bondsman does kneel

And the fire in my soul doth heal.

No man or beast can take away

What is mine is mine and it will stay

As to me it is my boys do cleave

I've had my cry, my howl, my grieve.

This paradise it is meant to tease?

To make my heart swell and meant to please?

But you my darling Otikami,

Are completely fucking barmy.'

Floyd spoke his strange little poem as he walked across the _grass_ towards Spencer. He'd seen some ridiculous things in his time… many very insane things, but to Floyd this just about took the proverbial biscuit. He could see the look on Taki's face turn from one of spite filled delight to confusion and the look on Spencer's face turn from anticipation to open amusement.

Taki had expected Floyd to be in a fierce open rage. He'd expected foul words and screams of abuse for the death of the dog, but not this. Whatever this was.

'It is beautiful.' Floyd said. 'I have searched most of my life for this very place and here it is! It is here with my two favourite people in it! My gods I hope the pygmies don't find this place. They will come eventually.' He gave Spencer a brief glance but was trying not to look at him and grin too openly. Taki had lost his marbles. He knew that this odd Samurai lacked in brains and taste, but he didn't realise until now that Taki thought Floyd was completely without any sense of reality too. Did he actually think that this would please him, or is this meant to annoy? Floyd really had no clue. There was no trying to understand the addled mind of this creature. 'I can hear water.' Floyd gasped in joy. He could also hear the continual loop of a recording of singing birds, feel the thrum of something under his feet… he thought it was whatever was powering this abomination, he could smell the artificial stink of something which he assumed was meant to be the perfume of the flowers and he could smell that nasty warm stink of something which he associated with penny arcades on a hot day… hot plastic. Individually, if you took each thing on its own, Floyd could see that this reconstruction of his mind was not too sloppy. Taki had all the parts in place, but enthusiasm to get the look correct had flowed faster than Taki's common sense. It was a playground. Something you'd find in a cheap theme park. 'Ah the birds!' Floyd exclaimed. He was fast running out of nice things to say.

'What, what was that rhyme meant to mean?' Taki's hand was now on that damned sword hilt. Floyd eyed it lazily and gave Taki and equally lazy smile.

'The rhyme? Oh just a spur of the moment jolt of inspiration. You didn't like it? Stay your hand Taki. I'm not going to cause you troubles. I think I know what this is all about and I offer myself to you.' Floyd showed Taki open palms. The gun and knife still hung at his belt. 'If I'm to die today, I would like to at least be able to thank you personally with love and honest feelings. Enough of the trickery and foolish games, don't you think? It's time to sit here in this paradise and discuss what has been and what will be.'

Again Taki just looked confused. Whether it was translating what Floyd was saying from his native tongue to English or whether he was just too stupid to get the message, Floyd didn't know. Spencer understood the message though. To Spencer it was very loud and very clear. _I'm going to kill you, but it will be when I'm ready - not when you demand it._ At least that was the message Spencer _thought_ Floyd was trying to pass onto Taki.

'I took your lover.' Taki spat at Floyd. He took a step back as Floyd moved in.

'Spencer? Oh, everyone has Spencer. You just have to slap him around and he'll offer himself. It means nothing. I've sort of over trained him I think. It's nothing which his heart tells him to do. You understand what I'm saying? Oh I will admit that I felt anger, betrayal… that knife pressing against my spine, but it was brief. Just a flash of emotion which I'm sure you meant to let me feel. I felt it! You won that. I was fucking livid with my fury. Yet… as I said… he cleaves to me, Taki. That beautiful man kneeling there is mine.'

'The bond was destroyed!' Taki took another step back as Floyd advanced on him.

'The bond was frayed around the edges, but that's not a problem. They proved themselves.'

'He proved himself by letting me have him?'

'I could have enjoyed that had I not been in conference with Hotchner at the time. It made things very awkward for me. Fucking by proxy is wondrous, but sometimes inconvenient. No matter! All sorted now. And had I been alone at the time I would have been sticking my dick in the nearest power socket just to get rid of some of that built up energy. It was wasted though.' Floyd placed a hand on Spencer's shoulder. 'Stand up Spence.'

For a moment Spencer thought that his legs wouldn't allow him to do that. He'd seen the gun on Flanders' side. He could see the twinkling of a knife too. He'd not seen Floyd carrying a gun like that for many years. He'd done so at one point in his life. He'd worn two monstrously big things and had promised never to carry such again. Why now? He did stand though and only with a slight sway to go along with the huge sickness in his stomach.

'Guns…' Floyd suddenly said, as though he'd heard Spencer's thoughts. 'They need to be cared for properly. They should be cleaned and oiled. They should be loved and become a part of your own being. An un-cleaned gun is a messy soul.' Floyd placed a hand on Spencer's arm and pushed him slightly away. There was no anger in it. To Spencer is felt more of a protective gesture. 'I was wondering…' Floyd continued once Reid had moved back a few paces, '… whether you clean your blades? Are they still stained with the life you stole from Sam? Do you have a messy soul, Taki? I would like to see.' Both Floyd and Spencer took in the way Taki's hand moved again to the sword hilt. Spencer had seen the speed in which that blade could be removed and used. He'd seen it in the past and he'd been witness to it not so long ago. 'No…' Floyd spoke softly as though talking to a young child, '… Taki I don't want to see the blade I want to see your soul. But you don't carry one do you? Where is it? In your saddle bags, wrapped in tissue paper?'

Taki had completely lost thread of what Floyd was talking about. Actually Floyd wasn't all that aware of what he was babbling on about either, but it seemed to be working. Taki's hand dropped again from the blade and he took another step back. He was nervous. Floyd's reaction had made him nervous. 'What in the name of the gods are you talking about?' Otikami hissed at him.

Floyd, though ignored him and started to walk towards where he could hear water running over stones. He sensed rather than heard, Taki following him but the rattle of the arrows on his back pretty much gave him away and that feeling of confusion was wrapped around the fool so tight that Floyd thought that Taki was on the verge of imploding in on him self.

The river… 'Oh…' It was about all Floyd could say and not either burst into tears at the abomination or start howling with laughter. It was a dip made up of pre-moulded fibre glass, or something like. Rocks and stones had been carefully placed to give it a slightly more natural appearance. There were what appeared to be actual fish there swimming around and there were flowers and grasses planted along the bank in concealed pots. 'My paradise.' Floyd squeezed out from between his teeth. 'A fucking miracle.' He then spun on Taki and grasped him by the shoulders. 'I've never seen such beauty.' And he kissed the man firmly on the lips. 'My gratitude to you from me.' He announced. 'But before I fuck your pretty little Nippon arse I'm going to ask you just a few questions. I need this straight in my head and please don't look so affronted, Taki. I know it's me you want.'

Taki wanted to pull away. This wasn't going the way he'd anticipated. He'd wanted anger and blind rage! He'd wanted Floyd to arrive with that gun of his, hot in his hand and with blood gushing from Spencer as he'd knelt on the grass! He'd wanted Floyd to realise that his paradise was here and to take the gun and use it on himself! He'd expected anything but this odd reaction. He thought that killing Sam and throwing him away like trash would have made the man insane with passion. He'd expected him to tear the dog apart and eaten the heart in an attempt to keep him close, but he'd not done that. He couldn't have. There'd not been time to do it. 'What is your game?' He asked as again he tired to pull away and Floyd stayed close, very close, pushing his hip hard against Taki and now winding a hand around the back of his neck.

'My game is to win.' The words were spoken directly into Taki's ear.

'Then we play the same game.' Was that slight smugness in his voice?

'Turn.'

'Put my back to you? Flanders, you are insane.'

'Not to turn you back to me is even worse insanity. Humour me, Taki. Humour me and turn your back.'

'Never.'

'Well then we are at an impasse because you might be stupid, even verging on moronic, but equally my back wont be turned to you. Tell me exactly what you expected from this… this folly? What was the reason that you destroyed part of my spirit? You thought that by taking everything that was mine that you'd win? You thought that by taking the life of Sam you'd enrage me?'

'I heard your distress.' Taki spat in Floyd's face. 'I heard it.'

'You heard something. Was it really distress though?' Well actually it had been, but to admit that right now would be an error. 'It wasn't distress. I was merely requesting that he waits for me. To wait with The Old Woman. Now tell me what you thought you were doing by attacking and screwing with my Spencer? Answer me Taki… talk to me. Tell me what you really thought you were playing at? Taking all my toys away from me? did you think I was going to go spit my dummy and have a tantrum?' Floyd's fingers on the hand not gripping the back of Taki's head were now moving slowly towards the knife at his belt. 'This paradise… this wonder which you created… You wanted my blood on the grass here? Was that it? You wanted a broken man to appear and fall to his knees and… what? What did you think I was going to do and why do you keep trying to back away from me? Tell me… tell me what in your little deluded mind did you think I was going to do?'

'I took them! I took them as mine and I destroyed them. Everything and everyone you have loved. They're mine. Whatever you do now it is too late. I give you this paradise which dwelt inside of your paranoid mind as a gift in return.'

'Return for what?'

Taki wrenched back from Floyd and took three quick steps away. The blade was drawn and in less time that it would take to blink it was touching Floyd's throat. 'In return for giving me leave to rape your slut. I was going to let you finish the game. I was going to let you roll that final dice and see…'

'I cheated.' Floyd smiled. He raised one empty hand and one with the small knife in it. 'Sam cheated. You didn't win him. I won him. He died because he took this and passed it onwards to me. He cleaved to _me_ Taki, not to you. He will wait for me, not for you. You've already lost what you were after. Though why you'd want my discarded dog I don't know. As for Spencer… He enjoyed his time… I enjoyed his time. He's come to no great harm… he also cleaves to me… ME!'

Taki pressed the point of the blade against Floyd's skin. A little trickle of blood ran from the tiny wound. 'I will kill you as I did the dog!' He raged. This was going wrong so fast that Taki was having a hard time keeping control of what was going on.

'Then you fail again! Surely I was meant to come here and kill Spencer and die at my own hand? It's not going to happen quite as you wanted it is it? And not because I just want to fuck with your head Taks, but because… just because! And that's the damned best reason I can give you. You expected to have Sam kneeling at your feet, Spencer splayed out and dead and me so beside myself with grief and anger, yet so pleased that I'd found that elusive paradise that I'd happily take myself… take my own life. Press that blade and take my life then. If you can. I don't believe that you dare. The repercussions will be immense and fucking formidable. You are a bully, Taki. A nasty pain giving bully. You're the kid in the playground who bends back the other kids fingers almost to the point of breaking them and when they cry you nick their candy. You're a spite filled stupid barbarian who thinks that by covering himself with fine silks and surrounding himself by purchased goodies that his life has meaning. But son, it doesn't. Your life has no meaning because everyone you know either hates you or just dismisses you as a waste of time. Your threats are empty and your life is meaningless.'

Spencer watched. He thought he should be doing something. Jumping on Taki's back, anything… something, but he was keeping his eyes firmly fixed on Floyd. If Floyd wanted him to make a move, Floyd would tell him. But if he misread what was happening then Floyd could likely be as dead as Sam and then… what would be the point in living? Reid let out a soft moan. The scar on his back gave a small tingle as though confirming what he'd thought. He couldn't live without Floyd. He was sure of that. He could manage for a couple of years, but for the rest of his life? That wasn't possible. He would fall apart. He would wander the streets searching for what he'd lost in the same way Floyd wandered the forests in search of what _he_ had lost.

He took a step closer to Floyd and stopped when Floyd's hand twitched slightly at his side. That's all he had to do. He wanted Spencer to stay where he was. 'I made a dreadful mistake.' Spencer spoke to the back of Taki's head.

'And what was that?' Taki moved again as though someone had fast forwarded him. He spun and now that deadly blade was against Spencer's neck. 'What was your mistake _slut_?'

Spencer's eyes moved to look at the blade. There was a dark red gleam along the side. A smear of Sam still sitting there. 'You just answered your own question. I behaved like a slut.' He moved his eyes to look at Floyd. 'I ask for forgiveness, Floyd. I was wrong. I betrayed you. I did unspeakable things and even _enjoyed_ them!' He now pulled his attention back to Taki. Floyd was moving in slowly behind him. Spencer didn't want to let Taki see what he was looking at. 'Taki, I am sorry that I let you believe that there could ever be anything between us. There cant. It's not possible. I'm Floyd's bondsman. I have been for as long as I can remember, almost. I have been _long_ before he put this mark on my back. A mark which I willingly accepted. I didn't protest against it. I'm proud to wear it! I would die for Floyd, as Sam did. You'd never understand that would you? You'd never understand what that feels like… or maybe once you did? Is that why I'm pulled back into this game of yours, this idiotic child-like performance of yours? Surely you're not still sulking after all those years! Surely not! No real man could hold such hate or jealous wanton fury in his heart for so long… not and stay sane. If that's what this is about then I'm sorry Taki. You cant have me as yours. I'm not even my own person to offer myself to you if I wanted it…' _Come on Floyd! Do something before he spikes me!_ '… I belong to someone else, Taki and I have done since I was a child.' He placed a hand on the edge of the blade and pushed it away from him. There was no resistance there. There was a look of bemusement on Taki's face and as Spencer stepped towards him with a hand out in a peace gesture, Taki accepted it with his free hand.

Reid thought he heard Floyd mutter a word, but it might have been the sudden realisation that Taki's hand was gripping hard. Fingernails digging into his flesh. With one hand a blade was being re-sheathed… Spencer now seemed to have one arm forced up behind his back and a blade which Taki had removed in a flash from his bandolier of knives was at his throat. He heard Taki hiss into his ear. It was a hiss of surprise. Floyd was now behind Taki with the blade Sam had given him at Taki's throat.

'Now this is very interesting.' Floyd sounded happy. 'At last something to think about. What say you Taks?'

'Stop calling me Taks! That's not my name. And this game will end very soon if you don't remove that knife from my neck. You cannot possibly win this. If you cut me my reaction will be to slice into this perfect neck I'm pressing this against. You cant kill me and not kill Spencer at the same time. I will win eventually. Kill me and you'll kill Spencer by your hand also.'

'Taks… you're not seeing this the way I am obviously. That perfect little neck you're threatening will not feel that blade of yours. You don't have to wonder too hard about why or how that wont happen, because I'm telling you. It's that simple. It may be a mystery you'll have to carry in that poor swollen brain of your forever… think about it – whilst you still can. Now hear me and hear me well because I have a habit of repeating myself and I'm trying to stop myself from doing that. This plastic reconstruction of my paradise is filth. I'm sorry Taks, but it's just one of the most vile things I've ever come across. The scented air makes me want to puke, the squeaking of the grass makes me want to plug my ears and the trees? They are going to force laughter out of me eventually. You trawled through my mind and you wreaked havoc and I'm not going to forgive you for that shit. Not now and not fucking ever! No man sneaks inside my head and destroys my pretty places – not and get away with it. No one takes my dog from me and then slays it for having the guts to rebel against you. No one takes my love and my bondsman and threatens him, rapes him, tries to ruin him… no one. That is why today on this… this stuff under my fucking feet… that's why today your blood is going to flow there and not mine and not Spencer's and when that's done I'm going to go forth and I'm going to do what is necessary to get my dog back to me as it should be. Spencer, my dog and I are going to move to a fucking desert Island or some fuck what and we're going to have just the three of us for an eternity and you're Taks, old friend are not included.' He paused. 'But I might invite Hotchner and his kid along for long holidays in the sun… or wind… that's not going to be your business. I'm going to make a tobacco pouch out of your testicles. I'm going to make all kinds of wonderful toys out of you and your remains. It's going to keep me amused…' He paused and looked at the way Taki's arm muscles had tightened.

'You and me Flanders. The pair of us. One blade each.'

'No.'

'I'll slice him…'

'I said no.'

'You're daring me?'

'I'm giving you a chance to stay that blade Otikami because as good as you are with it, you'll not win this. Face to face you don't stand a chance. You wish to walk away from here alive, then put that damned weapon down.'

'Face to face. You and me.'

'Then release Spencer. Release him and turn to face me. He cant hurt you Taks. He has no weapon which could damage you. What are you so afraid of?'

'Go back to the dog.' Taki hissed between his teeth at Spencer. 'Go… but I warn you now that even with my throat sliced I can throw a blade at your running back. Tell your master here to remove the blade from my neck.'

Spencer swallowed. 'I'll go. I leave and go to Sam, but Floyd…'

'The blade is gone… go babes. Go to Sam. He'll not be up to much more than laying still, but if you don't mind talking to yourself… Taks love, I need you to unbuckle that shit you're wearing. One blade each doesn't include that arsenal you've got strapped to your chest. Do that now. I want this shit over with before it gets dark. Hurry! Spencer babes, run… Taks… move faster… for the gods why is everyone acting like a slug today! You've fucked my head over Taki and I can still move faster and think more lucidly that you can. You'd not want to see me on a good day. Shit! You'd faint with awe. You would be awed. I'm sure of it. You've only ever known me when I'm really down to my last tiny bit of sanity… And I can feel it slipping slowly away again… so can we… please… RUN! Spencer move! And Taki thank you kindly for doing what I've asked. Now I'm going to kick that shit out of the way and we will stand and face. Do this properly. No fucking around. No cheating.'

'I don't need to cheat.' Taki sneered back.

'No, but maybe I do.' Floyd kicked Taki's things out of the way and watched as the man slowly turned.

'When you're ready. You need to meditate?'

Meditate… Taki was off his fucking planet with insanity now. 'Meditate? No thanks Taks… I don't need to. But don't let me stop you if that's what you feel you need to do. Whatever makes you feel more comfortable.' Floyd waved the small knife in front of his own nose. 'I'll just stand right here and watch you. Oh you're not going to? Don't trust me not to slice your fucking head off the moment you take your eyes off me? That, cully, might be the most sensible thing you've ever decided in your life. So where do you want to stand? Is there a line we cant cross? Can I just pull your balls off and have it over with? First blood or to the kill?'

Taki glanced at the knife he too was holding. 'I'm going to take your head back to Hades with me. I'm going to see it tarred and put on a spike at the gates of the Great Halls.'

'Wont happen. Just wont happen. I'm too pretty to be tarred. They might bottle it and keep it in one of the libraries to use as a reference to great and stunning beauty, but on a spike? No… not me. What about you, assuming I get your head to take back… any thoughts?' Taki was slowly circling and Floyd was moving around to keep facing him.

'An un-necessary request. It's not going to happen.'

'No, likely not, Taks, but humour me will you? I mean this is a small blade I have here and yours is twice the size, but I suppose I've got to give you some advantage and as you are so lacking in other areas… anyway… what should I do with it Taks?' There was no reply. 'Fine! Be a miserable bastard all your life. I'm only asking. You seem pretty sure that you are going to win…'

'Why cant you shut the fuck up for five minutes? Does your voice rattle on constantly always? Cant you keep your thoughts and ideas in your own head for just a while! What the hell is wrong with you!'

Floyd raised an eyebrow. 'Well I was attempting to annoy you, Taks… did it work? We all have our own ways to prepare for combat. Yours seems to be walking in circles and mine seems to be talking.' He paused and smiled. 'I think it's nerves… you know how people rabbit on when they are nervous in a silly attempt to cover it up? It's a common trait, so maybe that's what's wrong with me? Maybe not though… I suffer from some kind of mental illness… apparently… I have psychotic episodes, but they _are_ only episodes. Not like you Taks… my whole being isn't one huge psychotic fuck up.'

It wasn't the sort of fight which was over almost before it had begun. They were both fast and speed was going to have to be an advantage Floyd would use. He didn't like fighting people with knives. It gave them a very unfair disadvantage. It was hard to rip out a throat with your teeth when someone was sticking a blade in you. Taki got first blood. He caught Floyd on the shoulder with a downward strike which almost took the blade from his hand as it sliced down into the bone. Floyd let out a hiss from between his teeth but not much else. Unfortunately Taki managed somehow with a strange spinning whirl which for a second managed to confuse Floyd, to get second blood too; this time a cut to his left arm. Nothing too deep, but again a hiss from between Floyd's teeth.

Floyd decided that the stupid small knife he had was just not going to do the job. He couldn't get close enough to Taki and not get struck again and so when Taki caught him again, this time in his upper thigh, Floyd threw his dainty little knife. A good shot! Floyd was happily surprised when he saw the hilt sticking out of Otikami's chest. Now it was Taki's turn to make that annoying sound of pain. Taki took a step back and looked down at the protruding object and as he did, Floyd leapt. He more or less followed the arc the dagger had taken and landed on Taki's chest with arms around his shoulders and legs around his middle. Taki stumbled back and Floyd bit. He bit down hard on the side of Taki's neck and was much pleased with the taste of blood in his mouth. It felt good. It felt like he was sucking the strength out of Taki and swallowing it down into him self.

Taki had wanted to kill Floyd quickly. He'd wanted to slice through his damned neck and shut him up in one hit, but Floyd had been too fast and now the bastard was ripping into his neck like some dog or insane vampire. He swiped with the long blade he was still holding but now at close quarters it wasn't so much use. The blade in his chest was causing Taki's breaths to hurt. Floyd could see blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. The bastard was going to die, but it was taking far too long.

They rolled on the ground for a while. First one punching and scratching and then the other taking control and doing some damage. Taki was careful not to let Floyd's hands near the blade hilt. They were both losing blood and they were both in pain… One of them though was still thinking clearly and he was carefully, but not obviously manoeuvring them closer to where Floyd had kicked the sword Taki had used to kill Sam with. Taki caught Floyd on the jaw, making him smack his teeth together, bite his tongue and see stars. He caught Taki back on the side of the head forcing a groan from Taki and a yelp from him self. It was like punching a brick wall… Taki didn't seem to feel it… But Floyd kept a hold of the demon and moved slowly but surely towards the dark hilt of the thing he was going to take the monster's head off with. They gouged at eyes. They spat blood at each other… played games like bending back fingers, punching noses, twisting ears… Taki, though fast and efficient was more used to dealing out pain than deadly damage. And he was good at it.

They got tangled in Taki's long robe. They hissed curses at each other as elbows slammed into faces. Floyd felt his nose crack and his teeth rattle, but he also felt something cool under his fingers.

He slid to the side, pulled the blade and got to his feet as Taki managed to get to his knees gasping for air which was getting harder and harder to draw in. The front of his clothing was blood soaked as was his shoulder and down the side of his neck where Floyd had torn at him with his teeth, but Floyd was bleeding from numerous wounds too. Both men took a deep breath.

They say when you have your head removed from our shoulders that you can still see… that your brain doesn't die immediately. Floyd wondered with distant curiosity if Taki saw the plastic grass suddenly turn red. He wondered if Taki felt his head fall and yet see his own body still kneeling. He would have liked to have asked.

He did what any normal man would do and plucked the head off the ground and tied it to his belt via the pony tail. He then pushed the rest of the body onto his back and removed the blade which had slowed Otikami enough to enable Floyd to win… At least this time. He kept his word and quickly removed parts which he would utilise later. Using Taki's own blades he removed Taki's hands and genitals. He then rolled him over and inserted the long blade in Taki's only remaining useful part. He stood, feeling weak and sick and spat on the corpse.

'No one takes what is mine. Especially not some fucking slit eyed shit like you.'

Floyd then removed the gun belt and tossed it to the side. He'd not used it and he was glad about that. He no longer felt comfortable wearing a gun, even if he'd tried to fool himself into thinking he did. He'd made a promise. He'd broken it and it could have cost Spencer his life.

He limped out of the nasty paradise and through the woodlands. He half slid down the slope, but Spencer had seen him, he saw the blood and had come running to assist.

'My god.' Spencer whispered… and then repeated it when he saw Taki's head. 'Oh my god.'

'I'm hurt.' Floyd muttered. 'I need a long rest.'

'Oh dear god.' Spencer's hands were fluttering over Floyd's wounds like one of the butterflies from the paradise. 'Let me help you.'

'There's stuff in my pack. It needs staunching but I'm going to be fine. Just fine.'

'The head…'

'Needed to prove to you I got it.' Floyd's fingers were going numb as he fumbled to untie it.

'It's over?' Spencer watched but didn't help. He couldn't touch that thing hanging there with that surprised look on its face.

'No. It's only just started, I think. We need to talk. We need to recover Sam somehow. We need to… sleep. I need to hold you. Make sure you're still here. Did he hurt you babes?'

After Spencer cleaned the wounds as best he could, and covered them with only slightly dirty cloth, they sat in the long grass with Sam laying behind them and they held tight to each other. Floyd thought he'd lost Spencer that day. He thought Otikami was going to get Spencer before he reached them… he'd been too late for Sam…

But Sam was replaceable. He'd get another Sam. A nicer Sam… a Sam with no breasts.

But if he'd lost Spencer?

Floyd held on tighter and for once… and maybe just this once let himself sleep whilst Spencer kept watch.


	12. Chapter 12

12

Spencer wasn't having the most fun he'd ever had. He was sitting in the dark, and it was very dark and suddenly chill with clouds moving fast and darkly over the moon. On his lap was a man who stank of blood and sweat. A man who kept going into strange shaking fits. A man who was talking to something under his breath, in his dreams. Spencer thought had it just been Floyd shuddering and having what Spencer thought was some kind of nightmare (or breakdown? Or death?) that he wouldn't have felt so creeped out by it. It was the wind blowing through the grass, the head laying on the ground with out a body attached to it, the corpse laying in the grass behind him… and somewhere not too far off there was another noise… something walking… Spencer thought that it was more than one thing, and though Floyd probably wouldn't have woken up if a bomb had gone off under him, Spencer still clung on tighter. He even reached out behind him and grabbed Sam's hand. He'd been sitting there for maybe ten minutes before he realised what he was doing. Spencer groaned. He wanted to let go of that hand again. Actually he wanted to stand up and start running through the grass with his mouth open and one long scream coming from it. It was that or stay sitting here like a maggot on a hook and wait for whatever that or those things were out there to come and get him.

Talking to Floyd and saying what he wanted to say without being interrupted was a virtual impossibility. Floyd always had some kind of snide comment to make or some quip which Floyd thought was oh so very amusing. Therefore during this time of darkness and in an attempt to forget the dead hand he was holding and the things out there moving around in the grass, Spencer opened up and confessed everything.

'I let him have me. I tried to fight him off, but really did I try hard enough? I'm still alive and so I suspect that I didn't. I know you don't want me to apologise for it, or at least not to say that I'm sorry. It happened. It's obviously not going to happen again. I hope that I'll never be in a situation like that again. The Sam thing… I was trying to protect him, Floyd. I was trying to keep Taki away from him, but that knife? Taki knew and Sam was gone before I could stand in the way. I would have. I hope you know that. If I'd been given the chance I would have taken that blade for him. Taki was just so… I don't know how to describe it… deluded? Insane? Or is that you I'm describing? He's not like you, or at least he wasn't like you. He had everything worked out in his head. Everything sorted and the correct boxes ticked but when things went wrong he just appeared not to know in which direction to move. I couldn't tell his moods…'

'It's those damned eyes of his… cant tell with that sort… They look like they're squinting at you even when they're not.'

Spencer let out a deep sigh. 'I thought you were sleeping. I wanted to talk and not be interrupted by you.'

'_Sorry_ babes. Please carry on. Tell me how good it felt when he fucked you. Tell me what he did to you. Don't leave anything out.'

Another deep sigh. 'This is why I find it so difficult to express myself to you sometimes. It's _not_ funny. Why do you have to make everything into some kind of joke? I thought that because of what appeared to be an outright betrayal that you'd not come looking for me, or at least if you did that you would kill me on sight.'

'Really? Look deeper into yourself, Spencer. Stop lying to yourself. You know I'd come for you. You knew I'd not kill you but I might have hurt you quite a bit.'

'Can I ask you something? And can I get a serious answer from you?'

'Sure, babes, if there's a serious answer available, I'll use it. Fire away.'

'If it had been me that Taki killed rather than Sam… would the outcome in that theme park have been any different?'

'Oh I would think so.'

'How?'

'I dunno. I just would think so.'

'Would you have killed Taki in retribution for killing me, as you did for Sam?'

Floyd coughed, ground his teeth and sniffed. 'I didn't kill Taki cos he killed Sam. I killed him because he did the most foul thing a man can do to another man. Worse that rape and worse than fucking their mother, sister, brother… or whoever… He violated me. He destroyed something in here.' Floyd placed a shaking finger on his forehead. 'That's why the pig died. Had he killed you and not Sam? I dunno babes. I really don't know if it would have made a whole lot of difference.'

'I see.' A spike of angry jealousy spread through Spencer so fast that it made the dark night spin in his head. He felt like getting up and jumping up and down on Floyd and shouting words he'd normally never use. Spencer found no need to express himself with foul language. He didn't think that it contributed towards conversation in a good way, but now? He felt the muscles in his body tighten and ready themselves to either batter Floyd to a pulp for being so thoughtless and insensitive or to run away. 'And can you explain to me what is going to happen now?' He suddenly remembered he was still holding Sam's hand and let go again… this time feeling no guilt.

'I'm going to try to sleep, but it's not easy when you're mouthing off all your inner angst. Can it wait?'

'Are you going to be alive in the morning?'

Floyd turned slightly so that he could look directly into Spencer's eyes. 'I don't know. But if I'm not then this confession or whatever it is wont need to be told and if I'm still alive then you can tell me then. You want absolute honesty from me? I don't know. I'm hurt. Those fucking weapons do big damage Spence. I cant heal this myself. I'll need time… maybe a lot of time. I don't know and I wont know if you don't just settle down and let the night pass and allow me to sleep.'

Spencer gave Floyd a quick kiss on the mouth. 'For a dying man you have a lot to say. You saved my life again today. Thank you. Now sleep and I'll stay quiet.'

And though Reid had tried his hardest _not_ to feel like a jealous child, it was seeping through his bones as he sat there with Floyd snoring gently in his arms.

It was a horrible realisation… actually he'd realised it a long time ago, but now sitting here with Floyd obviously trusting him to keep him safe, with Sam laying slowly rotting behind him and with Taki's head nesting in the grass there was no reason to feel anything but some sort of sense of accomplishment. Spencer and Floyd had been living in peace. They had a nice home. They had routines and lives and then Sam came along and disturbed things. Sam took some of the attention that Spencer wanted all for himself and he didn't even appreciate it. Spencer wouldn't have gone so far as to say that he was glad that Sam had died. He'd not wish that on anyone… never… almost never, but he was glad he was gone. He was glad that he had Floyd to himself for a while. He was glad Taki was dead… that his head was no longer part of him. It wouldn't last though. Even when things were going beautifully something always stepped in and destroyed it. It used to be Floyd himself who couldn't behave for a day at a time. It had been Floyd in the past who had almost purposefully messed things up, but now it was Sam… always SAM! Spencer almost shouted the word aloud. Sam had at one time not even existed… then things between Floyd and Spencer had become calm, comfortable… boring? Safe? Routine? And Sam had appeared like a rash and the more you scratched at it the worse it became.

Spencer turned his head and looked at the place Sam was laying. He could only just see the dark of his clothing and the paleness of his face, hands, feet… and he knew that he should feel sorrow or at least feel some kind of negative emotion, but it was just relief and Spencer didn't much like himself for feeling that.

He'd tried to be his friend, hadn't he? He'd tried for Floyd's sake to reach out and be nice to him, but it was false. He could never like Sam. Nothing except Sam not being around, Sam never having existed… nothing but Floyd not wanting him anymore would please Spencer now. That surge of jealous hate filled him again. He looked away from Sam, rested his head on Floyd and closed his eyes.

As the sun was beginning to rise and the first mists of the morning swooped up from the damp grass, something touched the back of Spencer's neck.

It was a light touch. Like a sweeping caress. Spencer yelped in surprise, pushed Floyd off his lap and leapt to his feet. He spun around with fists ready to defend himself against what he assumed was Sam once again back from the dead and found himself staring at Taki's horse.

'Oh gods.' Spencer moaned. 'I nearly died.' He quickly checked that there was no headless Taki riding the beast and then stroked it gently on the nose. 'Have you never been told not to sneak up on people?' He asked with a smile on his face. 'Was it you creeping through the night out there? Was it you I could hear?' He looked around as saw the other two horses with heads down munching on grass. 'Well at least we have a quicker way home now.'

He conferred with Floyd who still seemed to be sleeping, but that was fine. At least Floyd wouldn't answer him back or get snappy with the decision Spencer had made. 'I'm going back up the slope…'

That was as far as he got. 'Are you indeed. And there I was thinking you didn't fuck the dead.'

'To get the tack for the horses…' Spencer carried on.

'Wow.' Floyd rolled over in the grass and grinned at Spencer.

'Wow? What's that meant to mean?'

'Just a strange place for a man to stuff his tack.'

'Are you feeling any better?' Spencer ignored Floyd's stupidity and knelt down next to him.

'Ah well no, not really. My left arm is completely dead, my right leg is sort of very painful… you know… I don't think I'll be able to help you, sorry babes. I'll just lay here with Taki and Sam and you go get the horse stuff. I'm not going anywhere.'

Spencer's eyes narrowed. 'I could do with some help.' He pressed.

Floyd took a hold of one of Spencer's hands. 'Babes, you're doing great. Go get the tack, get the horses ready, find a couple of bags we can put heads in…'

'Oh what?' Spencer got to his feet. 'What?'

'We cant leave them here. I have to take them with me.'

'I'm not leaving here with a couple of heads in a bag, and Sam's head is still attached! At least it _was_ last night.'

'Was just thinking it might fall off. Never mind. Just go and get the fucking tack and get the horses ready. I'll wait here. Promise.'

'Go back to sleep.' Spencer snapped at Floyd. 'Or learn to shut up.' He quickly jumped back out of the way just in case Floyd was more able to move than he was making out, but Floyd ignored him and closed his eyes again. Such a temptation not to kick him between his legs… such a temptation, but he took two deep breaths…

'Hurry the fuck up. Stop breathing like that. I thought you were jerking off for a minute.'

Spencer left Floyd smirking in the grass and jogged up the small hill to where Taki had discarded the saddles and bridles. He didn't bother with the harnesses which Taki had used to hold his many weapons in place. There wouldn't be a need for that. One saddle and one bridle at a time, Spencer jogged back down the hill. He checked up on Floyd each time and each time Floyd didn't seem to have moved.

'How are you feeling?' A sweat drenched Spencer asked a contented looking Floyd who was laying on his back looking for pictures in the clouds.

'Feeling mighty terrible, to be honest.' He looked at Spencer and frowned. 'To be dishonest is much easier, can I do that? I'm going to be great Spencer. Everything is wonderful. Can you do me a great service though and grab a smoke out of my pocket and light it up for me? I'd also like you to prepare some skin I got a hold of yesterday, but that's taking liberties too far…' He paused and licked his lips. '… wrong pocket babes. That's the one with the hole in it.'

'You know, even when you're apparently on death's bed, you manage to revolt me?'

'Then I will die happy.' Floyd accepted the cheroot between his lips and winked at Spencer. 'Thanks sweets.'

After the horses were tacked up, Spencer walked over to Sam. Somehow in the night the front of Sam's small cotton jacket had come open again and exposed his left breast. Spencer gave a small shudder just looking at it. Not because it was a breast, and not even because it was Sam's, but because it was so horribly bruised and bitten… and now those wounds were turning a quite nasty black hue. Reid leaned down and wondered only briefly how that had become exposed in the night and covered him up again. He then stood and prodded him carefully with his toe. He half expected to hear Sam's bitching, whining voice telling him to quit prodding him. But nothing happened. Floyd was waving his hand in front of his face making the smoke drift away faster and was showing no signs that he was going to help or was bothered that Spencer was touching Sam and so again with a heavy heart and more than a bit of annoyance he picked up the cold slightly stiff Sam and placed him over the saddle much like he'd been when Spencer had knocked him out… when had that been? Yesterday? The day before? He couldn't remember now. It seemed like a life time away and he guessed for Sam it was.

He secured Sam into place and then picked up Floyd's backpack.

'And where are you going with my world?' Floyd asked Spencer.

'Your world? I suppose it is. I'm going to stick _the head_ in it.'

'Nice.'

'Well you have a better idea? I'd love to hear it if you do.'

'Spencer! For fuck's sake! I'm about dead here, trying to stay awake and alive and all you can do is bitch at me. I saw you, by the way. I was watching…'

Reid dropped the pack back into the grass. 'I give up. I really do. I'm trying my best here. I'm trying to get us all out of his place and my mind is spinning with everything that's happened. You might have forgotten but that man raped me, Floyd. I stood and saw Sam die. I was scared out of my mind… you're covered in blood. There's a dead body over a horse, a head in the grass and you… you're moaning that I might dare put something in your bag you don't want there. If you don't like it… Well… I don't know…! I don't know any more. I cant carry on with this Floyd! I need some help. I don't know what to do. I don't know where we are meant to be going. We cant ride back into civilization with a body on the back of a horse and a head in a bag!'

'Calm the fuck down.' Floyd pushed up onto one elbow.

'No! I wont calm down! I cant calm down! I've got a week's worth of adrenaline pumping through my veins and my voices… they… they're screaming at me! Floyd I'm going… no! I've gone… I've lost my mind and this time I don't think I'm going to find a way back again. I cant do this any more. I cant do THIS!'

Floyd had now managed to crawl to one knee and was leaning forwards looking at Spencer. 'Hey, babes. You've not lost you're mind. Just sit and take deep breaths. It's going to work out. I'm just a touch grumpy and I'm in pain and I'm sort of sad… Just relax a minute and sit.'

'If I didn't love you, I would mount that horse and just leave. I'd get out of here and ride away and never come back again. Never see you, not be bothered about Sam or what happens to him, but for some odd reason I _do_ love you, Floyd. I do! And this is just breaking me! I cant take this.'

'Then come here. Sit with me. Let me hold you. You've done well. You've dealt with a hell of a lot recently. You have no idea of the insane fury I felt when you were taken. It was as though my soul had been torn from me. I never want to feel that again Spencer. Please, sit with me.'

'So you can mock me? So that you can torment and…' Spencer rubbed at his eyes with his finger tips. '… I was so damned scared Floyd. I didn't know if I should have given him what he wanted or fight him off. I didn't know if I should comfort Sam or leave him. I didn't know what I should have been doing and that's wrong. I should have known. I should have been able to control…'

'Hush and sit.' Floyd sat back on his butt and put a hand out to Spencer. 'Please Spencer. Sit. I promise I'll not mock you. There a promise. One I will keep.'

'I don't know that I can sit. I think if I try to keep still I'll explode or something. Floyd, did you touch Sam in the night. Did you… did you interfere with his clothing?'

Floyd slowly shook his head. 'No babes. No I didn't. You think I screwed Sam? Is that your problem?'

'No… no, It never occurred to me that you would have. Someone exposed him…' Spencer went to his knees in front of Floyd and pointed to his own chest.'

'He was flashing his tits? It wasn't me Spencer. Honestly babes, wasn't me. That's interesting though, but it might just be body gasses? Does that happen?'

'Maybe, I don't know. Maybe… I took his hand last night. Perhaps I pulled on the clothing when I did that.'

'Surely that's the answer. Now talk to me and tell me what else.'

'I cant go back to the BAU, Floyd. I cant. I don't want that life anymore and this here has shown me further that I cant. I don't want my life to be surrounded by the dead calling out for help. I need to help… I need to reach out and find them peace if you understand that? I want to do that, but I cant… it's going to destroy me… it's already deadened a part of me. I've seen so much that it's just routine, another dead thing, another puzzle and it shouldn't be like that. It's as though part of me inside is so cold. I try to show empathy and sometimes it works but it _is_ just a show. It's another little game to play. I hate felling like that. I should he horrified when a new case is shown, I shouldn't feel excitement and I shouldn't feel just a cold nothing.'

'OK. You don't want to work for the BAU, but there's other departments. You could still be a Fed. Organised crime or something? Drugs? Maybe not drugs… but something else? Or are you thinking of a complete career change?'

'I was thinking, in my stupidity of being a kept man. At least for a short while, to get my head together. To sort things out inside of here, because I feel I'm falling apart Floyd. I cant go on like this. I cant keep being abused and treated like this in my daily life and then go to work and see it there too. I cant do it any more.'

'A kept man? You want _me_ to keep you? I'm virtually doing that already and I'm happy to continue to do that Spence, if that's what you truly want, but I don't want you throwing it back in my face in ten years time telling me that I stopped you from having a career and a life.'

And Spencer cried. Not just tears down his cheeks, but huge sobbing chest shuddering sobs. He would have made Sam proud. He clung hold of Floyd and got tears on his shoulder and maybe some snot in places, but Floyd didn't seem to mind. He placed a hand on Spencer's back and looked confused. 'Hey…' He could cope with Sam crying… you could just slap him out of it, but Spencer crying was a bit harder to take. 'It's going to be Ok babes. Together we'll sort it.' But Spencer's howls continued. 'I don't know what you want me to say Spencer. What do you need? I'll do anything, you know that… Spencer?'

'Ten years.' Reid sobbed out.

The words were lost on Floyd though.

It was probably another hour before Reid had pulled himself together enough to finish getting the horses ready. Floyd asked for a hand up onto the horse. He was limping pretty seriously and Spencer could see fresh blood on Floyd's arm too. All very bad signs. But Floyd had promised him at least ten more years. He therefore couldn't die. What Spencer did was kneel with his hands on the ground, next to the horse.

'I'm not going to step on your back Spencer.'

'You are.'

'Spencer, for fuck's sake! Get the fuck up. Just lace your fingers, I'm not going to…'

'Please.'

'Why?'

'Because you're bleeding again and I don't think you'll manage to get on the horse and not cause further damage if you don't use my back, so please just do it. I don't want another corpse to carry into town with us.'

'Fuck me sideways.' Floyd muttered. 'Spencer, I'm not going to die on you.'

'No you're not. I'm going to make sure of that. You will step onto my back and mount the horse. Please.'

Floyd was thinking that Spencer's insanity plea might actually be more accurate than he'd believed. The man had obviously lost his marbles at some point. Maybe they were sucked out of his dick by Taki.

'Did Taki give you a blow?' Floyd asked as he adjusted the stirrups.

'No… why?'

'Just wondered.' There must be another reason Spencer was acting this way then. 'I might fall off at some point. My balance seems a bit off.'

'Then we will go slowly.'

'Yes… And I will discuss the _Sam_ matter with you, because I think it's important that we get that out of the way before I'm able to lash out and kill you for being an insensitive arsehole.'

o-o-o

'Sam's had it in for you since you pulverised his face.' Floyd started. 'Not that it was your fault completely. That's totally irrelevant though. Doesn't matter whose fault it was. Then there was the incident in the _bunker_. I led Sam to believe that we would move on, the three of us. I lied to him. I left him there to die. So then he had it in for me too. Though personally I think he deserved that treatment.' Floyd paused to give Spencer a chance to interrupt him, but when only silence happened, he carried on. 'When Sam went _back_ that time he went alone in every way. The bond I'd had because he was my dog had been destroyed. He had no master. Taki took him on as his. You know what happened after that. I don't need to tell you the whole story, but… Sam returned to me. He came back to me when he defied Taki, who'd not been treating him very nicely, and stole the knife. Therefore this time Sam will go back once again as my dog. But there still lies the twist that he is also Taki's dog. Now… I have Taki's head. I took other bits too…'

Now Spencer interrupted. 'What other bits?'

'Well I thought I'd remove from him all parts which were used to harm you and Sam. I took his mind, his brain… I took his hands, and I took his genitals. Usually this wouldn't matter, dead is obviously dead and taking the head is the final act. Take the head and usually there's no coming back from it, though not always. There's a chance that Taki can plead his case some how and be permitted another go, but he will start at the bottom rung again. He will be someone's dog. I don't think even if that happens that it's going to be too much of a problem. Now Sam cant be owned by two of us, so my claim on him will be that I out rank Taki, whether he's alive or dead, I still outrank the fucker. So now what I have to do is go back and request his return.'

'Oh.'

'That's a problem with you?'

'I wanted time just the two of us.'

'But you see that cant really happen. I bonded Sam to you also.'

'So I was informed. Thank you for that. It would have been nice for you to have asked.'

'Life insurance of a sort. If I die, you wont if Sam is still alive. Sam wont die if I die and _you_ are still around.'

'I've got a headache.'

'Do you understand what I'm saying?'

'I understand that you've made my brain hurt.'

'Spencer… The apartment will still be paid for. The bills will be paid. It's going to be temporary.'

'No.. No! Floyd…'

'Temporary… just for a short while. I have to go back and recover Sam.'

'You are saying that you're going to die?'

'I'm going to go with Sam and the head. I will be back. You know I will be back.'

'NO! Floyd you're talking crazy. You'll recover from the wounds. You'll get better again. I'll get you to a hospital. We've survived this. We won! We got away. Now we can go home and repair and live. You said at least ten years. You said you're not dying!'

Floyd nodded. 'I'm not going to argue with you. I'm too tired and you're too irrational. If Taki had killed you, Spencer, I would want to do the same thing. I'd want to recover you. I need you. I think it's love? I think maybe… I would.'

'I don't want to hear more. I want to listen to the birds sing and be happy that I'm alive. I'm not going to listen to you and I'm not going to discuss this with you. I love you too Floyd and I've asked you if we can have time just the two of us and you've said that's not going to happen. You'd choose Sam… that whore, that dirty drug dependent bit of filth over me. Fine. Then what you're feeling in your heart isn't love, Floyd. It's called paranoid delusions. Why would I reciprocate a love you don't feel?'

'I do feel it!'

'Then prove it.'

'I came after you didn't I? I came and found you!'

'Because another selfish insensitive freak took one of your toys away from you.'

'You're impossible!'

'You're selfish!'

'So are you!' Floyd raged.

'I'm what you made me!'

'And I love what I made!'

'I don't want you to die!' Spencer shouted at Floyd. A sudden flurry of birds took off from the trees.

'Now see what you've done. You've spoiled the lovely bird song.'


	13. Chapter 13

13

They found a natural trench in the ground about an hour after their discussion. Since then there had been no chatter between the pair of them. Spencer didn't want to trade angry words with Floyd and Floyd was tired of trying to explain what he felt he needed to do.

The small dip in the ground was bursting with nettles and a few wild flowers and it was here that Floyd finally broke the heavy silence and asked Spencer to get Sam ready. He would have preferred to have done it himself but getting off the horse wasn't something Floyd wanted to do. He could have easily, but then standing up and carrying Sam would have been the problem and he knew he'd never get back on the mount without some sort of pulley system. It was easier to not show that side of him and order Spencer around instead.

'You said you loved me. If that was so you'd do this last thing for Sam.'

Spencer's lips tightened and he looked over at the horse Sam was draped over. 'I love you… not…' He didn't finish what he was saying. That dark look on Floyd's face told him enough. Spencer was going to rip out the weeds and make sure that the ground was firm. 'And we shouldn't be leaving human remains out in the woods. What you're asking me to do is illegal.'

'Then let this be the punishment for the crime you committed and I did time for.' Floyd snapped back at him. 'Leave the wildlife. Leave the plants, Spencer. Lay him in the fucking ditch, on his side and then cover him. There'll be nothing to find by the time the week is over. Oh and put the head in with it. They can go back together.'

Reid pulled Sam off the back of the horse. He was horribly limp and sort of damp feeling now. Fluids seemed to have leaked from every possible place and what had once been Sam was now just another thing… something which he would have looked at at a crime scene and started the process of working out a puzzle. He kept that firmly in his mind. Disconnected his brain from it being someone he knew and placed him, as Floyd had requested on his side. He put Sam's hands up under his chin. It looked like he'd fallen asleep there. Taki's head, still wrapped in old bits of cut up shirt was put down next to Sam's feet.

The following hour was taken up by Reid walking around and collecting up things to cover him with. There was enough soft sandy earth to easily do the job, but he also wanted to place rocks over the place just to make sure no animals decided to dig him up. It wasn't an obvious burial site, but if you really looked hard enough you'd be able to see it. Spencer stood back and looked at the job he'd done and sighed. 'What now? You want to say anything? Leave a marker or some sort?'

'Just get mounted and we can keep going for another hour or so. I don't want to be here when it gets dark.'

'If you're sure. I don't want you getting snappy with me because you didn't do what you needed to do.'

Floyd shook his head. 'I've already not done what I needed to do. We now need to get moving. I've a van parked up a couple of days ride away. If we can find it again, and I'm sure I can find it again, things will be easier.'

'Just so you're not offended when we arrive, but I'm not going anywhere with you driving. You're a menace to the roads.'

'Well I don't think there's going to be an argument there Spencer. Are you ready? Can we get the hell out of here now?'

Spencer gigged his horse up to stand next to Floyd. 'What was it you should have done and didn't do?'

Floyd slowly shook his head at Spencer and looked at the patch of disturbed ground Sam was hidden under. 'No point in talking about that. It's too late.' He then gave Spencer a long hard look. 'You're not planning on dumping me are you? Is that what this silence is about?'

Reid reached out and touched Floyd's arm. 'I'm not planning on dumping you. No. What I'm doing is trying to get my head around everything that's happened and if I try to talk to you about it and try to make you see… well that's when arguments begin and I'm not going to argue with you, Floyd, but on one subject.'

Floyd said nothing. He moved the horse forward clicking with his tongue on the roof of his mouth. He knew the subject Spencer would argue on… actually there were a few and they all seemed to involve Sam in some manner and getting into a bitch fight over Sam when he was buried only a few dozen feet from them didn't feel like the right thing to do. 'You shouldn't disturb them.' Floyd muttered.

'Disturb who, what?'

'The dead.' And he moved the horse onwards and though the pain in his shoulder felt like something was sawing him down the middle and though his leg felt like it was being torn off at the hip he took the horse to a canter. He didn't want or need to talk to Spencer about Sam. There would never be a friendship between the two of them and so talking about it was pointless.

o-o-o

That night they had a fire burning. Not for the warmth or for the food which neither of them wanted to eat, but just because it gave Spencer something to do. He'd unsaddled the horses after helping Floyd down off Taki's horse, he'd rubbed the animals down with a handful of grass. He thought about rubbing Floyd down with some too, as right now Spencer was putting Floyd into the _bloody minded animal_ category. He threw bits of grass at him instead and watched Floyd watching him with a little bit of amusement. He collected firewood and kindling, he asked to use Floyd's lighter to get it started and then sat in a lonesome huddle on his own and thought.

Floyd watched Spencer and saw him slipping into a sulk but didn't know what to say or do to assist him. 'I need to sleep again.' Floyd told Spencer. 'It will be safe for you to sleep too if you want to join me?'

Reid looked over at Floyd who was already on his side with his arms open ready and waiting. 'I cant sleep. If I sleep you'll slit your own throat or something insane. I cant trust you not to do that.'

Floyd again didn't bother to argue with that reasoning. 'Then come here and let me hold you whilst I sleep?'

'I can see you just fine from here.' Spencer snapped back at him. 'If you need to sleep then do so.'

'I need you to _hold_ onto!'

'What you need is… I don't know… therapy?'

'Then we'll go together. You and I. We will go to one of those counsellors who discuss relationship problems.'

'There's no need. I know what the problem is. You know what the problem is. We both choose to ignore it.'

'Then we need someone to guide us?'

'Floyd…' Spencer began to crawl closer. 'We cannot go to a counsellor and have me say "I'm jealous of my boyfriend's dead ex-love." That's not going to work. It will make me look like the mad one.'

Floyd raised an eyebrow at Spencer and snagged at the sleeve of his black top with his good hand. 'Mmm not going to talk about it. I just want to snuggle up and feel safe.'

'So do I.' Spencer muttered back, but lay there anyway and felt an arm enfold him.

o-o-o

It was a painful struggle to get Floyd back on the horse the following morning, but after a bit of swearing and gritting of teeth it was done. Floyd felt as though his muscles were locking up. His left side was now an aching numbness and his right leg didn't seem to be part of him any more. He had tried to get Spencer to pick some mushrooms for him but when he came back the third time with the wrong thing, Floyd gave up. He wondered if having a snort would do some good and then remembered the soiled filth Taki had left behind in his head and changed his mind. He was smoking a lot though. He was quite a heavy smoker anyway, but before they set off Spencer sat and rolled a fresh batch for him. Floyd hadn't asked and Spencer hadn't actually offered because he knew that Floyd wouldn't want that. But Floyd didn't argue with him just this once. Spencer tucked the things away in the side pouch of Floyd's pack which Spencer had actually been carrying. He offered the bag to Floyd who shook his head. He loaded up all available pockets with stuff and would probably have thirty smokes there which hopefully would last him until mid-day when he'd load up again. They moved slower today. A canter wasn't in question. Not only would Floyd have slid off the side of the saddle but the ground here was too uneven. Again they rode in silence and the silence was doing Floyd's head in. He wanted to talk. He wanted a chat about things but Spencer would only snap and moan and spit back replies.

'What the fuck is wrong with you? I rescued you. I came and got you. I killed the fuck who hurt you. There's just the two of us. We have lovely weather and the birds are happy. What is it you _want_ from me Spence?'

'I've spent a long time considering that, Floyd. It's nice to be able to ride through here and be able to try to think. What's wrong with me? When you're fit and well you terrify me because your hands like to hurt. You've a nasty attitude. But now you're threatening me with removing yourself totally from me and that scares me all the more. I cant stop you. I know I cant. I cant stay awake for the rest of my life. I cant have you locked away because something in your head got violated and now you want to kill yourself. I know I cant and I know I should understand, but if you leave me, I cant carry on alone.'

Floyd turned his head slowly to look at Spencer. His neck was stiff and his head was pounding but he tried on a smile anyway. He wasn't sure it was working and so dropped his expression back into a calm nothing. 'I see. So you are telling me that if I leave you for just a short while then you will top yourself? You also need to be examined by someone in a white coat if that's what you're thinking, but I don't reckon it's about me leaving you for a while… and it will only be a short time, Spence, it's about what or whom I bring back with me, isn't it?'

Spencer said nothing. He stared at Floyd with big hazel eyes and blinked once.

'Great. So I cant get Sam back because basically what you're telling me is that you'll jump of a bridge if I try? You know that if Sam and I are both gone and you do something stupid like that then there's nothing left? If you cannot trust me…'

'I trust you. That's the problem. I trust that you'll slit your wrists or walk out in front of a train. I know you will. I have absolutely no doubt in my mind. I cant deal with that Floyd. I cant look at you every day not knowing if tomorrow I'll get a knock on the door and be told you did it. I don't want to identify a body and arrange a funeral and grieve and do all those things which I'll have to do. I cant face it. And I'm sorry if that's selfish of me, but that's how it is.'

'Now, you will remain silent for the rest of the day and you will consider your real motives. I don't think it has anything to do with funerals and that crap. You'll not put flowers on my grave because you know I'll come back. You _know_ I will, so it's not really to do with that at all is it? It's to do with Sam.'

'Maybe.'

'No _maybe_ about it. Tomorrow we will reach the van. I dunno but I think I saw a cell phone in the glove compartment. Do what you need to do. I will do what I need to do. But you've got to get rid of this stupid negativity surrounding Sam.'

'How is what I'm feeling stupid? Why does the idea of you being dead make _me_ the fool? Why cant you see that I feel the same way about you and Sam as you do about my friendship with Hotchner? I'm not even allowed to touch Morgan. I'm not allowed to glance in JJ's direction. I'm not permitted time out with my friends because you don't like it. You don't trust me. You think I'll come home with the smell of someone else on my clothes and skin, but you seem to think that I have to accept your friendship with Sam? Why? Why should I? And if that's how it's going to be then I _will_ stay with the BAU and I will accept those offers for after work drinks and I might even go out down town alone and find something. If it's something you can do and I'm meant to deal with it and get over it, then you're going to have to also.'

'Don't threaten me with your filthy promiscuity, Spencer. Just don't start me on that one.'

'Then tell me why you would have a problem with me going out for a drink with JJ.'

'JJ… it's not… JJ? Why the fuck would you _want_ to go for a drink what that slut? Why? Why would you want to be seen with her? She smells so… just so… _ugly_. I'm not… I… fuck… I cant even say what you're making me think here because those images are just too far off my scope to be able to… fuck… JJ? You have a thing for her?'

'What? No! I would like sometimes to just relax and talk to…'

'About what? What the fuck do you have in common with her? Absolutely nothing beyond her clip board and files. Nothing. You would sit next to her, listening to her babbling on about her damned kid with a square head and her fucking ugly bastard husband and you'll slowly get depressed and you'll drink too much and try to stuff your cocking hands up her fucking skirt and slip your fingers around her silky thong…'

'Floyd!'

'You would!'

'It's JJ!'

'That's what revolts me so much! Why JJ?'

'She's sort of cute?'

'She's what now? What? OK! Go make a complete arse of yourself and squeeze on her titties and stick your dirty hands where she doesn't want them, but don't expect me to forgo what I want whilst I sit at home waiting for you to come home stinking of cunt.'

'For my life! Floyd! That's not what I meant at all.'

'Then what do you mean?'

'I meant that if I have to share you with Sam then you're going to have to share me too. I will go out and socialise and I will have friends.'

'Why? You've got me to fuck you. You don't need more.'

'I don't want them for sex!' Spencer wanted this whole conversation to either end or for Floyd to smack his head on a tree and knock himself out. 'I want other people to talk to. To discuss politics with, books, life…'

'You've lost me somewhere. You seem to think I give a shit about your social life. You seem to think that you have a mind of your own. You seem to think that you can live off my money and entrap me with your needs. It's not going to work, Spence Babes. It's just not going to work. I'm not sharing you with any fucker… not male or female… You hear me? I'm not fucking sharing you with any mother fucking body! So get that damned idea out of your fucking head. I didn't come chasing after you so you could then announce that you wanted to perform some cunting games with fucking JJ of all the damned people! You're mine! I'm not fucking sharing you!'

'You came out here after Sam and to destroy Taki. I just happened to be here too.'

Floyd reined up his horse and pulled a smoke out of his pocket. 'Spencer, so help me, if I could reach you and not risk falling and breaking my neck then you'd have no fucking teeth left in your mouth. You fucking ungrateful son of a bitch bastard. You have no damned idea do you. No fucking idea!'

Spencer shook his head. Actually, no, he had no idea… He gave a very small shrug.

'When I came across Sam laying where Taki had thrown him, in the grass, I could have done one of a few things. I could have spat on him and kept going. I could have stopped and mourned briefly and shown his remains some respect. I _should_ have taken my time and removed his heart and had lunch, but I didn't have time. I had to keep going. Taki could have waited. I could have, if he'd been alone, done the ritual of claiming with Sam, but I didn't want to find that Taki had killed you too. It was bad enough seeing what he'd done to Sam… if I'd been too late for you I would have put that gun in my mouth and taken my brains out with it. Taki's life or death would have had no meaning. However, you were alive. I managed to get you sent away… and I killed the fucker. By the time that was done and I'd returned to you it was too late. I couldn't do with Sam what I needed to do. That is why I have to go back for him. I have to go back and claim him. Sure… I could claim him and then leave him there. I don't need to bring him back here. But I'm not going to leave him to crawl through what remains of his life up there alone, not when he only died that way because he did something you didn't try and he got me a weapon I could use against Taki. Now you can argue that all you fucking well want, but you buddy, owe Sam big fucking time and I _will_ go back for him and I will go through whatever process is necessary because Sam is partially me and I actually like to live vicariously through Sam. You will have to suck it up Spencer because I might love you and all but I'm not going to allow you to make me feel bad about this shit. If I do what you said and I step in front of a train then so fucking well be it! It's maybe what I need to do. But chances are I will choose another method. Now stop your whining fucking noise and get over it. It's Sam is all.'

'Right. Understood.' Spencer gigged his horse on slightly faster. 'I'm _not_ going to put flowers on your grave. I'm not going to mourn you! I wont feel a thing because I don't think that I have anything left inside of me to feel.'

'You jealous insensitive motherfucking shit!' Floyd called after him.

Spencer looked over his shoulder. 'As you said. I am what you made me.'

o-o-o

Spencer didn't think that he was being unreasonable.

He just didn't want Sam around for a while.

He didn't want to not know what Floyd was going to do to get Sam back.

He didn't feel that the should have to go through the trauma of seeing a dead Floyd because of Sam.

Even if that dead Floyd would eventually come back to him… how long would he have to wait? How long could he last without Floyd there at his shoulder telling him how things needed to be done? He didn't know. He didn't want to know.

'Spencer!' Floyd called from behind him. 'I cant leave him!'

Reid ignored him.

Floyd couldn't leave Sam but could leave _him_. Again that surge of jealousy swept through him only this time it was accompanied by pain. This wasn't some sort of short term relationship Spencer had with Floyd, it was a long, very long term thing which even if he wanted he'd not be able to break free from. Not that he _did_ want. What he wanted was… he reined up, dismounted, picked up a long bendy stick off the ground and walked over to Floyd. 'Listen to me.' Spencer hissed at him. 'You've left me before and I've tried to pull my life together and then you suddenly show up again and everything I've tried falls apart. You then left me again… albeit for a prison sentence I should have been serving but the end result was the same. Only that time you decided to stop contact with me while you played your games. I'm not going to go through that again. I'm not going to lose you again and I'm sorry… and I'm _sorry_ that I'm sorry but I don't want Sam in our lives. You can go back without having to kill yourself. I know you can. I've been there with you! I know! So stop messing with my head! I'm yours. I'm not going to stray… and I was going to beat the damned crap out of you with this stupid stick, but now…' He threw it on the floor and walked back to his horse. 'I'm not going to put up with this Floyd!'

Flanders raised an eyebrow at Spencer's back. It was a nice little display.

But in the end it wouldn't make any difference.

'We both will ultimately do what we need to do as individuals to ease pains in our hearts and souls. We will be moved and motivated to step up to the plate and accept the punishment or to take on the responsibilities which we need to do or take. It's not always a choice. Some things just have to happen so that we can sleep at night and be better people for it. I understand your feelings, Spencer, and I will endeavour to compromise in some manner. At the moment my heart is still in pain from loss…'

'Oh stop the bullshit!'

'Language… watch what you say, potty mouth.'

o-o-o

And so again they rode in silence until it was time to bed down. Floyd had attempted to feel what Spencer was going on about, but whatever emotions Spencer was feeling were totally alien to Floyd. He thought for a while that it might have been the same sort of feeling that he got when Spencer came home stinking of Hotchner, but that couldn't be the same… When Spencer came home smelling of that man, Floyd felt killing the man was the only option and he was sure that Spencer didn't want Sam dead. He was very sure of it. Spencer was a kind loving forgiving spirit. He'd not hold a grudge like that, so whatever this feeling was against Sam was obviously nothing like the one he him self had against Hotchner. It was also nothing to do with race, skin colour, religion, money, sex… and if it had nothing to do with any of those things then Floyd had no idea what this was about.

'It's not like…' He started at one point, but Spencer waved a _don't talk to me_ hand at him so he never finished, but really it wasn't like he was having an affair behind Spencer's back. He was quite open and honest when he slept around. He'd even made clinic appointments for Spencer at the same time as he made them for himself, (just to be sure) so that Spencer wouldn't have to walk in there alone. Why was the Sam situation any different… Floyd couldn't see that it was.

The fire glowed and Floyd lay on his side and smoked and Spencer sat and did some more thinking.

'Can I have a hug?' Spencer finally asked. 'I don't want to argue. I've argued enough. I just want to be with you.'

Floyd smiled over at Spencer and licked his lips. 'You don't have to ask for a hug you fool.'

'No, I feel I do. And I feel that I need to apologise and I don't know what for because, Floyd I'm so angry with you.'

'Well let's just forget it for now. I'm tired, I'm in pain… I would love to go to sleep hugging my best boy.'

Spencer let out a snort of a laugh. 'Your best boy… until…'

'Always! Now… we are safe. I promise I'll still be alive in the morning, so you will sleep with me.'

Floyd wondered if it had been shock. 'I think it was shock.' He informed Spencer the following day. 'I over reacted.'

'Are you apologising?' They had found the van and Spencer was pulling tack off the three horses and throwing the stuff in the back of the van. Floyd sat in a sideways slump on a grass bank chewing bits of grass.

'No I'm not. I'm explaining that I have come to the realisation that I think that I might have over reacted to the situation. My heart felt as though it would never mend again. I was a torn and broken person, Spencer. I had every intention of saving you both from Otikami and I failed. I feel that I failed you both in that respect even though I still have you, I've put you through the distress and pain I was feeling.'

Spencer slapped one of the horses on the rump and watched the three of them walk off back into the woods. 'Give me a break from this will you? Are you riding in the back? It might be more comfortable and I wont have to listen to your excuses.'

Floyd gave a small nod. 'Might be better if I can lay down.'

Spencer helped Floyd into the back of the van. There was still a bedroll which had been slung over the saddle with Sam which Spencer now offered to Floyd. 'Just sleep. Sleep and relax and I'll drive us… where?'

'Home.' Floyd muttered, but to Spencer it already looked as though Floyd was sleeping.

Once alone in the van and with there being no access between the rear and the cab, Spencer rummaged through the glove compartment. He pulled out a hand full of change. There was a cell phone but the battery was dead. There was an old greasy comb with wiggly dark hairs caught between the slightly bent teeth. A pack of mints. Some wet wipes. Nothing to get excited about. Spencer now had uninterrupted time to think about what he was going to do next and one of those things was going to go and seek counselling… either with or without Floyd. He was going to sort this mess out once and for all and hopefully if Floyd would go with him the counsellor will be able to get it through Floyd's thick skull that playing around with Sam (especially when Sam had breast and cunny) was the worst sort of betrayal and hurt that Floyd could give. It was worse than being slapped. It was worse than those hands wrapped around his throat. I was worse than the punches and kicks… and other lovely things Floyd had done to him. Because when Floyd dished out the damage in that way, Spencer had a target… he had someone he could beg and plead with… someone he could crawl behind and ask to be forgiven. When it's Sam causing the damage, all he can do is stand and say nothing.

Floyd lay down and felt the rattling of the van as Spencer drove back towards home. A home which Floyd had wrecked in anger. Now that was going to upset Spencer and he was going to have to be all fucking forgiving and nice to him and bloody well promise to replace the sodding books. It would be easier to just burn the damned place down and start again. He also had a revelation of his own. Well not entirely of his own as it happened. He snuck a small bit of it from Spencer's messed up mind. Sam…

Sam was the revelation.

Spencer had become too used to the fists and head butts and kickings.

And those marks could be seen.

Floyd was the new man. The loving boyfriend. He'd never lay a hand on Spencer… not physically. He just wouldn't. Not now. Maybe back in his youth… (maybe when it didn't look like Spencer would defend himself) yes maybe, but he was going to prove his love and dedication to his lover by never _ever_ raising a hand to him again. The occasional bitch slap or kick or pinch was different though.

Sam though… oh he could beat the shit out of Sam…

But that isn't the main reason he'd like Sam around.

Just Sam being around hurt Spencer far more than a fist would.

And honestly who would consider Spencer as sane and reasonable by complaining that Floyd sees Sam occasionally?

Floyd prodded at his wounds and winced.

All he had to do now was recover from this and then jump from a tall building.

Maybe take Spencer with him.

Suicide pact type thing, only Spencer needed know about that.

Floyd grinned and fell into a deep healing sleep.


	14. Chapter 14

14

The journey home was more or less uneventful. Spencer went through Floyd's bag and found his wallet and slipped a few notes out of it. He'd pulled over it a gas station where there was a small diner attached. He sat alone and pushed food around his plate and got some take away to hand over to Floyd who seemed to be having a very long nap. He got bottled water and after filling the tank carried on.

Floyd seemed to miraculously wake up as Spencer pulled up in a parking space in the underground parking at the apartment. Then Spencer half helped and partially dragged Floyd to the elevator. There were a few mumbles about wanting to use the stairs, but Spencer ignored them. It was when they reached the apartment door that Floyd seemed to be awake enough to talk properly.

'I was enraged.'

Spencer sighed but didn't bother answering. He knew that Floyd had been angry, but he still hadn't expected the apartment to have been as wrecked as it was. The bedroom was fine though. Oh yes. Floyd had made sure that there was still somewhere comfortable to lay with his boys. For now it was just Floyd who lay there on the bed though whilst Spencer stood and looked at the mess Floyd had made of everything.

He took a long soak in the tub. Washed his hair, cleaned and flossed his teeth, used the mouth wash, had a good shave and then walked back to the bedroom. Floyd was still sprawled out and seemed to be muttering something Spencer couldn't quite hear. Reid sat on the bed next to him and placed the back of his hand on Floyd's forehead. He was expecting him to feel hot and feverish but it wasn't Floyd's temperature which caught his attention.

'Sam?' Floyd asked.

'Yes.' Spencer replied. He got up, grabbed a bag out of the bottom of his closet, and stuffed it with as many of his clothes as he could, picked up his own wallet, gun and ID, got dressed and walked to the apartment door ready to leave. He stood for a while waiting for Floyd to come racing after him… he didn't. He wondered if he should leave a note, and decided not to. He would have liked to have called Hotch and told him that he was back and was safe and well, but the phone had been smashed. He would also had liked to have booked a room at a hotel before he left, but again couldn't.

And so he walked out.

He walked out needing to be called back again. That's all it would have taken, just one word… a word which wasn't _Sam_ and he would have been back and he would have willingly fallen back into the routine of beatings and abuse, but no word came.

The hotel he booked into was not far from his supposed place of work. He wasn't sure that he still had a job or when they'd let him go back again if he did, but for now it seemed convenient to be close. A nice hotel. Nice staff. A room with a view over the city so that he could have daily proof that life went on. Whatever happened next, for everyone else life would just continue as though he'd never existed.

He made his phone call to Hotch that evening when he knew he'd be at home and Jack would be sleeping. He gave rough information about what had happened, but it was very vague and recalling much of what had gone on was all ready slipping away, as though it had been a dream. Hotch asked if he needed anything and Spencer told him that for now he just needed space to breathe and time to get his head together again. Aaron took down the address Spencer gave him and told him to take a week and then contact him again. They _would_ have to discuss everything, but he was willing to give Spencer time. Hotch didn't ask about Floyd. For that at least Spencer was relieved. Hotch didn't ask about Sam either and again that was a tiny bit of comfort for Spencer. He was quite sure though that Hotch would check out the apartment. He would see the state it was in and he would find Floyd.

Let someone else deal with it for a while.

For the first two days Spencer sat on the bed and watched trashy TV programmes and ate junk food which he'd called to his room. He tried to sleep but every time he seemed to reach that place where you started to recharge your batteries he jerked awake thinking that someone was in his room watching him. He had to sleep with the lights on, curtains closed.

How many times did he check that the door to the balcony was securely locked? He'd lost count. The same with the hotel room door. It felt like every five minutes he was getting up and checking that door. Each time they were locked. Of course they were! He was the only person here. Who else could unlock them?

He got a newspaper with his continental breakfast and he inspected the small ads carefully, not knowing what it was he was looking for. He looked for odd murders, or missing people, fires, rapes… anything, but all local activity seemed to be quiet. At least it seemed that Floyd was being quiet. Spencer spent probably five hours each day just watching local news programmes on the television. His brain went into _problem solving_ mode but there really didn't seem to be a problem to solve there. There were politicians giving talks, students protesting quietly about things, a two hour rail strike, odd weather patterns had been reported but they were unlikely to effect where he was… A man called Geoff Marker turned 100 years old. It was the sort of news which was reported when there was nothing else to report. It should have felt good. It should have been a comfort that nothing was happening but it wasn't.

The following two days Spencer managed to make it downstairs to the bar in the evening. He wasn't looking for company. He just needed to hear the voices of other people. Voices not over a telephone or television. Voices which weren't angry and spitting with spite. He wanted to see couples hand in hand and maybe even children. And though behind his back he was getting called _that creepy strange man on the fourth floor_ that was OK. He didn't know they called him that anyway. There was still no contact from Floyd.

Spencer purchased a bottle of whiskey and took it to his room.

Alone and with an old war movie made in the sixties showing on the TV he lay on the bed and drank himself asleep.

The next day, after sleeping until nearly mid-day he showered and then took a short walk to a local book store. He purchased a few books, three he'd read before and he got purely for the comfort because they were something he knew he liked and the others he'd not read before. He would read all six of them before the night was out. He got some coffee from Starbucks. He bought cigarettes and sat on a bench by a fountain and smoked and flicked through the first book. He jumped or flinched each time someone walked to close to him, or a shadow passed by him. And he thought that it would become less obvious as time went on, but his need to keep his back to a wall if possible and his constant checking of locks in the hotel room didn't become less either.

He actually got some duck tape. It was red so that he could see it easier and when in his room he put just a small piece of it across the inner door lock. Just to remind himself that it had been checked and it _was_ locked. Why else would he have put it there? He asked himself this same question over and over again as he carefully peeled it back to check… check and double check. He did the same with the balcony. He called down to reception three times, then four times, then once an hour as the days drifted by, asking if anyone had tired to contact him.

Day seven someone had.

But it wasn't Floyd.

He called Hotchner back but made an excuse not to meet up with him.

'I've not been sleeping well. Headaches.'

Hotch asked if he could come over to see him. He wanted to make sure that everything was as it seemed.

Spencer said that would be fine. To pop over the following day after work if he wanted.

'Maybe we can go out for pizza or a burger?' Hotch asked.

'I think… maybe… no.' Spencer replied.

That was when he first realised that people were actually becoming a bit of a problem and though he'd been down to the hotel bar a few times and though he'd been in the hotel restaurant a couple of times… it had felt awkward. And though he'd wanted to see people living happy normal lives, after a few hours sitting alone getting silently sloshed, it just became depressing. The absence of the man he wanted in his life possibly more than he wanted life it self felt darker and more needy.

The need to see Floyd was making him feel sick. It was making him pinch and scratch at his arms. It was forcing him out onto the balcony and making him smoke too much. He still wanted that proof that life just carried on, but he needed that proof from a distance. He didn't want to hear the voices. He didn't want to catch the end of a joke or the mutterings of a girl confessing infidelity to her best buddy. He didn't want to _smell_ those other people either… watching was good though. Having the option was good too.

Hotch arrived with pizza and a good supply of coffee. Aaron was aware that when Spencer became stressed or poorly that this weight plummeted alarmingly. He loved the slim vulnerable looking Reid, but he hated that emaciated sick looking one. That was something which he saw all too often when Flanders was messing with Reid's head and that's what he expected to see today.

Spencer had hidden empty bottles of drink. He'd shaved and changed his clothes to things which were slightly layered. It helped disguise his body shape. It helped disguise how much weight he'd lost. They sat on the small balcony and looked over the lights in the city and listened to the sound of the traffic and they nibbled on food neither of them wanted to eat, but it was good to have it there to distract them from saying what had to be said.

'Floyd.' There Hotch had said it.

Spencer placed the slice of pepperoni pizza back in the box it had arrived in. 'As far as I know he's at the apartment.'

Hotch nodded and peeled a bit of meat off his slice of pizza. 'You don't have to defend him.' Hotch inspected the disc shaped bit of spicy meat and dropped it into the same box Spencer had placed his slice.

'There's nothing to defend him on. He'd not done anything. Nothing criminal…' But Spencer was thinking of Taki's head and Sam being buried out there alone in the woods. 'That's not why I'm here. We had words. A lot of words. Then when we arrived home he'd torn my belongings to shreds. It was just too much. I needed to get away.'

'And he let you?'

'He doesn't own me, Hotch. But yes, he was sleeping. I left when he was sleeping and that's a cowardly thing to do, I realise that, but sometimes that's the only way forwards.'

'He knows where you are?' Hotch was now sipping on his coffee.

'I'd sooner not talk about it Hotch, if you don't mind. It's private.'

'But he knows where you are?' Hotch tried again.

'I'm sure if he wants to find me he'll know.'

A nod from Hotchner this time. 'Did you read about the storms out south?' A change of subject. 'Floods.' He carried on. 'I expect someone to take advantage of it.' Aaron looked at Spencer nodding. Every time there was a national disaster the people got together. They helped each other. They helped neighbours and even people they'd never met or seen before. Old grievances were forgotten. Disasters let you see that life should mean more than money and petty dislikes. However it also brought out the thieves, the thugs, the murderers, the rapists. It seemed to tip people in one direction or the other. Thankfully most were tipped in the direction of kindness, if not love. It still didn't stop that growing unease that they'd get a call that children had gone missing, or that bodies with their hands tied behind their backs had been found, water poisoned… guessing which abomination was impossible. They would just have to await the call.

'Fires too.' Spencer commented. 'That always used to puzzle me when I was a child. How there can be two opposite things happening at the same time. It made no sense to me. Then I realised how much bigger the world is than I thought. It comprised of my mother and father, my next door neighbours… it's all I had or wanted. But then I started school. Kids of different cultures, backgrounds, colours, accents… Kids from every corner of the world all mixed as one big lump. All expected to get along with each other. All expected to be American. It doesn't work like that though.' Spencer stood and pulled a battered red and white cigarette packet out of his pocket. 'The world is huge.' Spencer sighed as he lit up.

Hotch stood next to him and leaned on the balcony rail. 'You have the travel bug?'

Spencer shrugged and flicked ash over the rail. 'I don't think so. I just need to know why with the billions of people there are out there that I'd probably get along with all of them to some degree; all of them except for the two I need to get along with.' Spencer turned to look at Hotch. 'Do you know if it's possible to hate someone so much that you wish they'd die, and yet at the same time know that you love them so totally that if they _did_ die that you couldn't carry on?'

Hotch nodded. 'I never wanted Haley dead, but I felt great animosity towards her at points, but I would never and have never and could never stop loving her.'

Spencer sucked on the filter of his smoke. 'I know. I know you loved her… still love her and I know she hurt you, emotionally…'

'She along with Jack were my life.' Hotch paused and sighed. 'I need to be completely honest with you Spencer. My job came first. Not because I purposefully wanted to hurt my wife and child, but because the job gets inside your head. It becomes your all. Your everything… all the time a case is in your head, that's all there is there. There is no room to think of hospital appointments. They get moved to the side. Not consciously. It just happens. Dates, times, names… they're not part of the case, they get filed away for _later_. The same when I'm with Jack, though. I am with him totally.'

Reid flicked the cigarette butt over the balcony edge. He knew he shouldn't but it was almost a ritual. 'I understand completely. Thank you Aaron. You've helped me more in the past few minutes than I've been able to help myself in the past week.'

'You will need to report in on Monday. An evaluation will have to take place.'

Spencer shrugged. 'I've not made a decision yet. I'm unsure about my future in the BAU.'

'You're part of the family Spencer. You're missed.'

Spencer winced slightly. He was missed by work mates. That's all he had. A few work mates who might not even be that for much longer. Spencer was sure he'd not pass yet another evaluation. They wouldn't want him back. He was too unstable. Too prone to disappearing for months on end and returning battered and broken and claiming life was wonderful. It would end some day and he felt that day was soon.

Hotch returned home to his little boy and comfortable house. Spencer returned to a half empty bottle and a TV remote control. He was still awake when breakfast was delivered in the morning via a tray. The tray had a single red rose sitting on it.

'No, there was no message except to make sure you received this with your breakfast.' The lad told Spencer.

It wasn't the same rose as before, but he felt maybe it was from the same person. The lad had brought up a slender glass vase for him to put it in. It was placed on the nightstand next to the bed. Then thinking that it was probably from Floyd (no one else in his life had ever sent him a rose) and knowing Floyd was apt to drug him via the flower somehow, he moved it across the room to the small stand next to the TV.

'And so the game starts all over again.' Spencer muttered. 'First the signs of affection and love… second the pornography… and then he'll be here breaking my jaw.'

The following day there was another rose with his breakfast. 'I'm sorry, no message but to make sure you received it.'

Spencer placed it in the vase along with the first one.

He stood in front of the balcony doors. They were locked tightly shut. He'd just put a fresh bit of tape on the lock. With hands resting on the glass either side of his head, he felt the cool glass on his forehead. The air was full of some sort of anticipation. He was sure that Floyd was going to come for him. He of course would fight him off. He would then go quietly. He would go willingly. Spencer glanced at his fingernails. They were bitten and ragged and there was dark dried blood behind them. His eyes followed along up to his wrists where he could see the first little digs and scratches. They could be hidden. He had shirts and sweaters which would cover that. He could wear his watch… keep his jacket on. That was fine. Further up his arms it got worse. The digs and scratched hadn't been made by his fingernails. He'd used the blade from his razor to do those. Not deep. He wasn't trying to kill himself. Far from it! He was attempting to prove that he was actually still alive.

The outside world seemed to be closing in on him. He made the lad who brought up breakfast, leave the tray outside his door. He sat curled up into himself smoking manically on the balcony when his bed linen was changed and the girls came in to clean the bathroom and dust. They didn't bother talking to him, but one of the girls reported how strange the man in room 410 was acting. Rumours were that he was some kind of drugs dealer or pimp, but they'd never seen any girls in his room. Just once he had a visitor. A tall dark haired man in a suit.

Spencer fell asleep on the floor somewhere in the space between the bathroom door and the bed. It was just somewhere he'd been when sleep hit him on the head like a hammer. He didn't dream. He didn't have nightmares, but he slept for a solid fifteen hours. When he awoke it was to a gentle knock on the door.

'Your breakfast Dr Reid.' The lad spoke quietly and then rapped gently again. He never left until he'd had a reply from the weirdo.

'Thank you.' Spencer muttered as he crawled to the bed. 'Just leave it there.' He added in case the lad was waiting. He wasn't though. Joey was already bounding down the corridor to the trolley which all the morning room deliveries had been transported on. It was empty now. Someone else would pick it up.

Reid pulled himself up on the bed. The room felt oppressive and the air felt dark and thick. There was a vile taste in his mouth which he put down to stewed coffee and cigarettes from the day (night?) before. He pushed his hair back off his face and behind his ears and walked to the door. He stood and listened. There was nothing but the distant _ding_ of the elevator, and maybe somewhere a door closing. He pulled back the tape off the lock, pulled the door open and hunkered down to pick up the tray. There was no rose on there today, but a small package wrapped in red tissue paper and next to that was a tiny envelope, about one inch by two inches. He gave it a small sideways smile. At last, maybe, Floyd had written words. He placed the tray on the bed, closed the door, locked it… checked it… put the tape back across the lock and then sat on the bed with the tray. He picked up the little envelope first and tore open the seal. He tipped out a tiny bit of card. _To ensure that I will return to you. Keep it safe. Guard it with your very life and soul… fff xxx._ It was Floyd's over fancy dreadful handwriting. It wouldn't be possible for someone to forge it. He placed it on the bed next to the tray and picked up the package. It wasn't big… it was a small item, whatever it was. Carefully Spencer removed the wrapping and looked at Floyd's slim and ancient lighter sitting in his hand.

'No… for my life no.' Spencer stuffed it in his pocket, ran to the door… ripped off the tape and swung the door open. This had to be a joke. Floyd wouldn't hand the lighter over… it meant too much. This was a cruel torment he'd sent Spencer. He was about to leave the room when the phone began to ring. Spencer turned and raced to the phone, dropping it once in his haste to answer it… 'Floyd?' He was out of breath and on the verge of screaming.

'It's Hotch. Spencer, can you stay in your room. I'll be there in five minutes. Don't go anywhere.'

'Hotch? What's going on?'

'Please Spencer. I'll be right over. Don't leave the room. Stay where you are.' The line went dead and Spencer thought he was going to die right along with it.

The door to the room stood open and Reid was still standing with the telephone in his hand when Hotch cautiously walked into the room. 'Reid?' He questioned. Slowly Spencer turned around and looked at Hotch.

'He's done something hasn't he?' Spencer whispered as he slid his hand into his pocket to make sure that the lighter was still there.

'I asked that no one talk to you until I had. Have you heard anything?'

Spencer slowly shook his head but withdrew the lighter and pointed to the note still laying on the bed. 'Just this. But you think it's more than just this, don't you?'

Hotch put a hand on Spencer's shoulder and asked him to sit down for a minute. 'At some point during the night, Floyd managed to get up onto the roof of the apartment building.' Hotch watched as Spencer's fingers tightened around the lighter. 'He didn't leave a note, but…' He slipped on a glove and picked up the one Floyd had sent Spencer. '…do you mind?' He saw the blank expression on Spencer's face. 'I'm sure that you can have it back later.' Hotch told him as the small message was slipped away into Hotch's inside jacket pocket. 'You are officially his next of kin.'

Spencer shook his head. 'I told him that I wouldn't grieve for him. I told him that I'd not do this. I cant do this. I'm not going to do it. You go and identify him. But you see Aaron, tests will be done on him and you'll see, you'll see it's not him.' Spencer felt Aaron's hand rest on his arm. Reid jumped to his feet and moved away. 'No… don't touch… don't touch me! Do you know how angry he will be if you touch me? Get out! Get out of my room and leave me be! I don't want to hear what you have to say. I refuse to believe it!'

Hotch stood slowly. 'I'll call a doctor to see you. I need…'

'I don't need a doctor! What is wrong with everyone! I need to be alone! Get out of my room! Floyd didn't jump! He didn't and you'll see that. It wasn't him. I told him… I TOLD HIM!' Spencer screamed at Aaron. He grabbed at his arm and tried to drag him out of the hotel room.

'Spencer, I really think that you should have someone with you.' Hotch walked reluctantly towards the door. He could see red tape dangling from the edge and would have said something about that too if Spencer wasn't being so insistent.

'I will be fine Hotch. You'll see. It wasn't him.'

'Someone should still be with you…'

'This is exactly what he wants! He wants to see me lose my mind! He wants to see cry and grieve and I'm not going to. It's not him!' Reid took in a deep shuddering breath… 'You should have my gun and ID. Top drawer of the nightstand. Then please leave me alone. I need to think. I need to be able to think.' Spencer sat back down on the bed and looked at the red tissue paper which the lighter had been wrapped in. 'He picked it up and squeezed it in his fists. He didn't notice Hotch leave. He didn't hear the door close. All he could hear was his heart pounding in his chest and all he could feel was a coldness spreading over him, starting from his gut and slowly spreading out.

o-o-o

Floyd actually didn't give a shit if Spencer was pissed off at what he'd done. Yes he'd jumped from the roof. Yes he had smashed to the ground and sort of exploded as he hit, but the actual journey down was kind of fun. Something maybe he would do again; hand in hand with his boys next time. An experience to be shared. He knew Spencer would be annoyed with him. He had actually listened to Spencer's rants when they had been travelling home, but they washed over him as though Spencer's thoughts didn't actually mean too much to him. He obviously didn't understand the whole problem. He had watched Spencer packing his bags and leaving and that didn't really bother him too much either. Spencer would come back. Spencer always came back the same way as he himself always came back.

He spent time in a deep hibernation. He followed that up by limping around the empty apartment and urinating in various places. Marking his territory. He smoked, he drank, he made coffee. He folded up the torn up books into hundreds of different little origami animal shapes and then put them on the bookshelves as though they were standing guardian.

Floyd had, during his time in hibernation gone into quick discussions with _them_ and they had been quite clear on the matter. Sam could be reclaimed _only_ if he came and got him personally. How much did Sam mean to him?

That was another thing Floyd had to spend time thinking about. Going back to reclaim him and doing it how _they_ demanded was going to hurt Spencer's poor frazzled feelings. Therefore to give Spencer comfort in his time alone he sent a couple of roses. He then sent him the lighter. It was a promise without having to say the words. It was to ensure that Spencer knew he would be back and to demand that whilst he was away that Spencer behaved.

Secretly Floyd would have loved to have been there to watch Spencer fall into his decline. He would loved to have seen him crying at the funeral home and leaning on Hotchner for support. He got a comforting tingling in his balls thinking of Spencer kneeling at the muddy graveside with a rose in his hand and tears on his face. It was a delightful idea.

Floyd had also had to decide what was going to happen when he got his Sam back (sans tits he hoped). He had paced and smoked and paced some more while he considered his options.

Move Sam in here with the pair of them.

Find a new place to live and move Sam in with them.

Move in with Sam and let Spencer find somewhere else.

Move in with Spencer and let Sam find somewhere else.

Live with them both in different buildings… A few days with one… a few with the other. Now that was a good idea. Spencer was used to Floyd wandering off for days at a time. He'd suspect nothing. Sam would know. Sam would smell Spencer, but Spencer wouldn't have to know about Sam. It seemed like the perfect option. He would get Sam a nice little clean apartment he could take clients back to. Then he and Spencer could live a secret life just the two of them. It would keep Spencer on his leash and keep Sam happy. But more importantly it would keep Floyd him self _very_ happy!

With Spencer's future decided, Floyd took himself to the roof. It was a long walk up the stairs. His leg was causing a lot of pain. He had an infection in his shoulder and the cut on his arm had made his fingers turn a funny colour. He had a faint (or not so faint) smell of decaying meat about him. He stank of rotting burgers which had been left out in the sun.

Crouching on the edge of the roof he had looked down and seen the darkness of the back alley way. He would have gone off the front, but there were railings and he didn't want to get impaled. So there he crouched and smoked with his toes curled over the edge of the small wall on the roof. Just below him was an old gargoyle which spouted water when the rains came. It was dry today though.

Light was just coming up. The sky was glowing red in the distance. He stood and his toes latched onto that edge again. He looked down at this toenails and saw that at some point he'd painted them black. He couldn't remember doing that. He thought about some last words he could say or a final thing to do. He wondered if the note he'd sent Spencer would arrive before the news that he was gone.

Then again demon DNA is a bitch to compare to anything. If he got this right and landed on his face as he would have liked, then absolute proof that he was Floyd would be difficult to get. He crouched down again, removed his wallet from his back pocket. Had one final smoke and as that glow lifted higher and spread out towards him, he stood and taking a deep breath, he stepped off the roof.

Floyd saw windows as he dropped. He saw curtains fluttering in the breeze which was sucked down these dirty back streets. He saw a cat curled up sleeping. He could hear a dog barking, a door slamming, a baby crying… he could see the beginnings of morning life and he could see bins, bits of old newspaper, a broken bicycle, a rat scuttling way… and he could hear someone laugh… but maybe that was him self. There was also above him and swooping down fast, the beating of wings. Huge wings.

He landed as he'd wanted; on his front. He felt his face sink into the back alley way. He felt his brains fly out around him. He could feel his ribs virtually disintegrate in his chest and a wetness covering him. Somehow though he could still hear those wings.


	15. Chapter 15

15

There were now a few things Spencer could do. He wrote a mental list in his head and began the slow but necessary process of pulling his life back in order. He showered and pulled on some clean comfortable clothing and with what was more of a grimace than a happy smile he walked from the hotel room. He walked half a block down the road to a bank and secured the lighter in a safety deposit box. He needed it to be safe and he needed to know exactly where it was, but he didn't want to have to keep looking at it. He then walked to a real estate agents and asked about local property. He loved or rather _had_ loved his apartment, but he had no intention of ever going back there. He found a nice small single storey dwelling on the outskirts of the city. There really wasn't anything to keep him here now, but it felt wrong to leave just yet. Things needed to be sorted out better in his head first. Next he took a cab to his own bank and informed them of the new property. Money would be going out of his account regularly now. It had been a long time since this had happened. Floyd had always paid for all bills… all everything. The bank manager found time to talk to his customer. Usually he would have been too busy, but Dr Reid was an interesting customer.

Spencer sat one side of the desk and the bank manager sat the other looking at his computer screen.

'I see that you've transferred property. It doesn't look as though that is going to be a problem.'

Reid frowned. Why on earth _would_ it be a problem? There was a disgusting amount of money in his bank account. 'Is there… is there something wrong?' Spencer asked him.

'Not at all!' The banks liked it when the customers didn't spend their money. 'Everything seems to have been transferred over automatically. It will carry on as it was before.'

'Sorry? What has been transferred?' Though he knew all ready.

'The same as it was before Dr Reid. Rent and utilities are ticked to be paid via the other account and a top up amount is still going to be transferred to your account here…' He tapped the screen with the erasure end of his yellow pencil.

Spencer raised an eyebrow. 'I only signed the rent agreement five minutes ago.'

'Computers.' The bank manager smiled at Spencer.

'I guess. Well that's all then. Nothing has changed?'

The man led Spencer to the door. 'Have a great week Dr Reid.'

'Yes. I will have a great week.' He sighed and caught a cab back to the hotel. The new place would be ready in four days. He'd arranged for someone to go and pack his belongings away. There wasn't much left there now anyway. Just the odd vase and his chair and the kitchen things.

And then his stomach hitched in distress. There was also the bedroom. Floyd's things… His things which he'd left behind in the night stand drawer. Personal things. Spencer put his head in his hand and groaned. Removal people must see a lot worse than a few sex toys. He was quite sure of that. Except it wasn't just a few. It was rather a lot. 'Maybe they'll just tape the drawers shut and not look.' It was unlikely, but it calmed him slightly.

A drive out to the property he'd purchased was now in order. He'd seen photographs, but not the actual place. He'd not sent surveyors around to check it. He'd just gone by the floor plans and the small description. It was away from where he had been. That was all he needed to know. He pulled up into the driveway of the yellow painted house and looked at the over grown grass and dirty windows. The place had obviously been left empty for a while, but with keys in hand and a bit of warmth inside him, at least for now, he opened his new front door and peered into the dark hallway. The whole place had a look of desertion to it. There was dust everywhere, mouse droppings, faded wall paper, but nothing dreadful. The hallway had a few doors leading off it. One was to a small but handy kitchen. There was a door going down to a utility room in the basement, but Spencer didn't check that out yet. Another room was a large lounge with big windows looking over the back of the property which also seemed to be a big overgrown, but it was just swathes of grass and could easily be brought back to how it should be. There were two bedrooms… one Spencer thought he could turn into a study and there was a nice sized bathroom with a tub and shower. There was also a small set of stairs which led up to the attic. Again Spencer left that for now. What he needed to do was call in some decorators and get the place ready to live in again, and get someone to cut back the grass. It hadn't occurred to Reid to bring a tape measure with him, so he couldn't sort out drapes. He decided to return the following day with a note book and pen and make a list of everything. Spencer thought he could be happy here. He hoped.

He then sat on the back door step and smoked. He _could_ be happy here. It was a nice comfortable size. But what he really wanted was for Floyd to enjoy it with him. He wanted to pick out flooring with Floyd… and choose bathroom accessories. He wanted to have to compromise on light fittings which Floyd would want to spend a virtual fortune on crystal… where Spencer would have been happy with economy paper balls. He wanted to argue over the spare room. He needed to hear Floyd say it would be a bedroom and a study could be made in the attic. He needed to watch Floyd rambling around in the small garden, picking weeds and setting them aside to smoke or add to their food later. It was a nice place, but he desperately needed Floyd to enjoy this with him. He stubbed out the smoke and stood, putting his hands on the small of his back and listening to the crack of his spine. It felt good. 'Where the hell are you, Floyd?' He spoke out into the grass. 'When are you coming home?' He walked back into the house and pulled a roll of duck tape out of his pocket and locked and taped the door closed. He didn't even notice that he'd done it. He checked all the windows he could without going up into the attic or down into the basement and each window was given a bit of tape over the lock.

He continued to deny the fact that it had been Floyd who had jumped. Floyd wouldn't have done that. It was a nasty, very nasty trick. One which Spencer would eventually forgive him for, but only because he _knew_ that Floyd could not have possibly done what Hotch had assumed. He had virtually begged Floyd on his knees not to do it. Floyd _knew_ that Spencer wouldn't be able to cope with life knowing that it had been him who had smashed to the dirty back alley way behind their apartment. Spencer wouldn't be able to deal with the images of Floyd laying there splattered out amongst the trash which collected around the bins. It would have been an unthinkably selfish thing for Floyd to have done. And though Spencer was fully aware that Floyd _was_ unthinkably selfish and self centred, he still kept a tight hold of the denial.

Spencer went back to the hotel and had another shower and changed his clothes into something more suited to his next purpose. Dark jeans and a grey, long sleeved shirt which he kept open at the neck.

o-o-o

Floyd wasn't very amused by the situation he was now in. It felt like a dozen eternities had gone by before someone deigned to talk to him and then it was someone's damned messenger telling him that they had _things_ going on right now and he was just going to have to wait longer. Floyd paced the dark nothingness of the corner of Hades he'd been dumped in. This wasn't damned amusing. They were keeping him waiting just to wind him up and the longer they kept him here the longer things drifted. And he hated it when things _drifted_. Spencer for example had a dreadful habit of drifting off with the first cock that presented it self to him. Spencer the whore. Spencer the slut. Spencer who took pleasure in playing his damned games whenever Floyd turned his back.

There was no sign of Sam either and this was depressing Floyd all the more. No Spencer and no Sam… what was the point in living? Not that he was officially alive any more. He was told that it would probably be better if he waited in his room and stopped pacing and trying to wear out the flooring. Floyd told the creature where to stick the damned flooring.

'They forget me if I get too comfortable.'

'They don't forget you.' Floyd was informed. 'They just continue to ignore you.'

Floyd told the thing to fuck off and not come back until he had word that someone would listen to his case.

'For sure!' The thing laughed. 'After they've heard Otikami's case.' And the thing was gone and Floyd hurled his abuse and spat in the direction the thing flew and cursed it and all of its offspring.

Life is not often fair. Floyd knew that, but death was a hell of a thing. He couldn't go back to Spencer. They wouldn't return Sam… they were actually _in discussion_ with Otikami? What in the name of living hell was going on? 'I killed him! Fairly! With a necessary weapon! You cant give him another chance!' Flanders shouted out into the darkness. 'How the fuck can this be right? Why talk to that mother fucking wank job and not me! You fuckers! Come on and talk to me! I demand that you explain this shit!'

Something fluttered over his head and then the echo of his voice returned. That was all. No one came to talk. No one came to explain what was going on. Sam didn't arrive looking sorry for himself and needing a seeing to. Nothing happened. So Floyd sat for another eternity and picked at his toenails and picked at his teeth and he waited.

o-o-o

Spencer's night out was met firstly with curious glances. They knew that Flanders had been back again, but not for long it seemed. Spencer was back alone. The club music pounded in Spencer's head and he hated it. He loathed these places, but he was here anyway with a drink in his hand, leaning on the bar as people moved around him, never quite coming into contact with him. The word gets around pretty quickly in places like this. Spencer belonged to a brute. Spencer was a _no go_ area. Only the foolhardy would approach Reid.

Joel was not foolhardy, so much as greedy. He liked the look of the tasty bit of meat standing there with a vodka mix in his hand. Sure he knew that Flanders had been back, but Spencer was there alone and if Flanders was still around, then Spencer wouldn't be here, or he would be here with that disgusting creature rubbing against him.

And so Spencer's evening started with the sideways glances from other people. The talking behind hands. It carried on into a gentle warm buzz as the alcohol started to sooth and seep its way through him. His evening at the club ended in a filthy backroom, with the lights out and the sounds of grunting and moaning around him. It ended with Spencer's jeans dropped, his nose bloody and a telephone number written on his chest in marker pen. It could have been worse. It could have been a lot worse! He could have left the place with more money in his pocket than when he arrived. He could have been drugged and beaten. Instead he was just drunk and slightly battered. It was the result that he'd been after. It was why when Joel had offered to buy him a drink he'd happily accepted. Joel had a reputation for using his fists; in all kinds of interesting and painful ways.

He made note of the phone number once he got back to the hotel room. There had been no discussion between the pair of them whether to contact. There hadn't been much of a discussion about anything, but there it was… a phone number. He didn't call the number the following day. He had things to sort out in the new house, but he did call Hotch and give him his new address. 'I'll invite you over when I'm settled. We can have a barbeque or something.' Spencer sounded relaxed and happy. Hotch didn't like it. He thought Spencer would have been out of his mind with grief, but there wasn't even a hint of it in his voice.

'Are you sure everything is all right? I still need to talk to you about…'

'Please, I don't want to talk about things which don't concern me any more. Just drop it.' Spencer wanted to slam the phone down. Why didn't the man understand?

'Spencer, if you need someone to talk to, please call me.'

Reid stared at the phone. He thought he _had_ just called him. 'I'll let you know when the house is sorted. Bring Jack with you.' Spencer knew that would never happen. Hotch wouldn't let his precious boy go somewhere where Floyd might turn up suddenly.

'I will.' Hotch replied.

Spencer said nothing at first. He just took a few short annoyed breaths. 'He's not dead.' Spencer blurted out. 'He's not, but that doesn't mean I cant get on with my life.'

Now Hotch took the annoyed breaths. 'Let me know when you've settled in.'

Joel was tall, fair and broad. He had a crew cut and a tattoo in some sort of weird pattern on the back of his head. Both arms had full tattoo sleeves and he had a delightful _tramp stamp_ on the small of his back. He was nearly as tall as Spencer and twice the size. He met up with Spencer in the hotel bar the following night. They sat at a round table and Joel's blue eyes watched the twitchy, nervous looking Spencer closely. They talked about TV shows, books, the state of the country. They discussed local, national and world news. Joel wasn't stupid, even if he did have ink on most of his body parts. Joel had a job, an apartment, a car. Conversation had to eventually turn to why the two of them were alone. Joel explained that his last mate had decided that he wanted to move to the other side of the country. 'I have a job, a place… friends.' Joel explained. 'I didn't want to leave all that.' Spencer sort of understood that. 'And what about your man? I've heard a lot about him. He's not going to suddenly appear and try to smack me one is he? You are free aren't you?' Though the way he asked didn't much sound like he cared if Spencer was free or not.

Spencer gave a small shrug. 'Rumours are that he's dead, but I don't believe it.'

'I thought the pair of you nested together?'

'We did. Now he's gone. A body was found, but as I said, I don't believe it is him. They cant prove it is.'

Joel's eyebrows did a small dance. 'So you're free.' The situation suddenly felt extremely odd. Spencer suddenly seemed to feel distant and away somewhere in his head.

'So I'm free.' Spencer let him know. He reached over the table and took Joel's hand. 'And I have a hotel room.'

Spencer didn't ask Joel to hit him. He begged him. He pleaded with him. And he got what he asked for. Joel ended his evening satisfied but with bruised knuckles. Spencer ended his sitting in the corner of the room with his arms wrapped around himself wishing that there was something else. He was beginning to understand maybe a bit more of what motivated Sam. That was for Dr Reid, a horrific thought. He was going to become like the dog Floyd lusted after. He could become that so easily. It wouldn't take much at all. Just a few enquiries… something to take the edge off the pain. Something to take the sharp edges off life. That's all he would need. It wouldn't make him a drug addict. It would be something to pull him out of the depression. He could probably even get it prescribed by a doctor.

'We going to meet up again?' Joel had asked as he stepped out of the bathroom with water running down his chest.

Spencer thought it would be a very bad idea. A terrible idea. It would be the worst thing he could possibly do. 'I've just bought a small house. Still local.' He rattled off the address. 'I've not got a landline sorted yet. But I'll be there tomorrow sorting things… if you want to come over?'

Joel gave a tight nod. 'If I've time.' He told him.

'It's just domestic stuff I need to arrange. It wont take long.' An invitation to baptise his house.

Again Joel nodded, as he started to pull his clothing on. 'You're an odd one Spencer. You know that?'

Reid looked up at the hulk sitting on his bed. 'I try to keep things interesting.' He gave him a smile.

'Should I bring anything?' Joel pushed his feet into his shoes.

'Something to relax with.' Reid muttered. If Joel heard he didn't answer or react to it.

'Later then.' He walked to Spencer and gave him a kiss on the top of the head. 'Think you'll be able to walk tomorrow?'

'I don't know. I'm not sure that my legs are still attached to my body.'

'You loved every second!'

'I did.' Spencer lied around his smile.

At least it was a half lie. He would have loved every second had it been Floyd. But it wasn't.

o-o-o

Sam cried. He curled up alone in the cold and sobbed his miserable heart out. They refused to talk to him. More than that, they refused to even acknowledge his existence. To get to talk to someone who could get him out of this mess he needed to talk to someone only a bit higher up the rank scale than he was himself and those idiots were the most unreliable creatures ever. They didn't even have a proper form… they wobbled around like a giant blob of jello and oozed and slobbered over things. Sometimes they inserted tentacles of cold slimy covered something up in side you and sometimes they would open their jello maws and eat you whole. One bite… yummy yummy… then you'd have to crawl your way through the thing and wait till it had a shit.

Sam had been digested and shat out a number of times now. His skin was getting sore from the chemicals. His hair was a ratty mess and the blobs seemed to like the taste of him. Sam once saw something not unlike himself being swallowed by one of those things, it then belched and vomited the poor lad over the bubbling tar stinking floor. The lad had kind of come out in bits and limbs and teeth, bits of skin fired everywhere and stuck to the floor and was slowly devoured until there was nothing left of him. Sam didn't want that to happen to him. He didn't want his skin to get scabby and weeping with sores and yellow ulcers.

'Can I speak to someone higher up please? I shouldn't be here. There's been a mistake.'

It made a globbly wobbly sound as reply and wiped and thing over Sam's backside and then wobbled and dripped away again.

o-o-o

The domestic jobs Spencer needed to sorted had been completed by mid-day. He then started to clean up the kitchen. He'd been avoiding the basement, though he _had_ finally had a look and discovered it was a nice airy room and nothing was hiding in the shadows. He mopped the floor, washed all the windows. Replaced all the red tape and he had brought with him coffee and a machine. 'All a person really needs in the end.' Spencer ran a finger over the coffee machine and smiled at the glowing green light.

The grass had been mowed back and the rubbish had been taken away. One of the neighbours seemed to make a full time living by doing lawns for the area. It was handy. Meant he didn't have to worry about it himself and he could afford to have someone come round once a month to do that. He stood in the empty lounge and looked over the back lawn. He suspected that when the bushes and trees were full of flower that the place was really pretty. There was a brick built barbeque too, which he would clean up before Hotch came over. _If_ Hotch ever came over. He was feeling suddenly lonely and more than a bit maudlin when someone knocked on the door. He stubbed out the cigarette he'd been smoking and went to find Joel standing there with a bottle of red wine in his hand.

'Hey… thought you wouldn't turn up.' Spencer smiled and let the man into his home.

'I nearly didn't. But what the hell huh?'

'Yeah, what the hell.' Spencer showed his friend around the place. The only place he didn't show Joel was the attic, and he'd still not been up there. There was something about it he didn't like. It would wait. The attic would stay up there and Spencer would stay down here. A mutual agreement between them. So far it was working.

In the kitchen Joel wrapped arms around Spencer as he tried to pour coffee.

In the hallway Joel pushed Spencer against the freshly painted wall and slid his coffee flavoured tongue into Spencer's mouth.

In the small bedroom he nibbled on Spencer's ear.

In the master bedroom, Spencer sat on the bed and bounced. It was a good bed. Actually it was Floyd's bed. Spencer suddenly stood up and walked from the room dragging Joel behind him.

In the lounge it was Spencer who made the first move and pushed against Joel like a rampant dog in heat.

Joel dragged Spencer back to the bedroom, placed the wine on the side and over the course of the following couple of hours made sweet passionate love to Spencer.

Reid let Joel fuck him.

Joel lay back on the bed with a happy but knackered smile on his face. 'Dear god.' He muttered.

Spencer lay there and needed more. He needed so much more. He rolled onto his side and touched Joel where his nerves were still tingling and jumping. Joel let out a small yelp of surprise but pushed Spencer's hand away. 'Give a man a rest damnit.' Nothing else was said and so Spencer got up and walked back to the empty lounge. He smoked for a while and then sat on the floor and looked out of the large windows across the darkening garden. He wasn't sure how long he sat there for, but a board squeaked slightly and someone sat down next to him. An arm wrapped around his shoulders and a hand gripped the top of his arm.

'You should put some of those night light things out there.' Joel spoke almost in a whisper.

'But I'll never bother.' Spencer sighed. 'You staying the night?'

There was no answer, but the arm tightened. Spencer guessed that meant he was. After all those nights he'd lain with Floyd and wished that the man would still be there in the morning, now he had his chance… now someone was offering that, and he wasn't sure if that was what he wanted. At least he didn't want it from someone he would never more than tolerate. That was how it all began though. Joel didn't actually move in, but he was there most nights. On the nights he wasn't there, Spencer would spend the night checking all the windows and doors. They'd still not inspected the attic and Joel had given up trying to persuade Spencer to go up there. There was no need to. Why terrify the life out of yourself if you don't need to? Besides, there was that agreement.

Hotch did come over. It was a Sunday and he brought Jack with him. Spencer introduced Hotch to Joel. They shook hands. Joel played chasing and soccer on the grass out the back. Spencer seemed happy.

'I have this.' Hotch passed over a slip of paper to Spencer, but didn't take his eyes off the tattooed man running around chasing his son.

Spencer looked down at the paper. It was a few letters and a number. 'What is this?' He waggled the bit of paper at Hotch.

'A grid reference for a grave.' Hotch didn't have to say more. Spencer put the bit of paper in his pocket. Later when Hotch was gone he tore it into little pieces and set alight to it in an ashtray. It was already too late though. The letters and numbers were in Spencer's head and would probably remain there until he died.

o-o-o

'Finally!' Floyd called across the darkened area where he could see maybe a dozen eyes glowing back at him.

'You wish to make an application to discuss matters pertaining to your continuance and for a retrieval of a dog?' The voice boomed over the blackness and battered against Floyd's ear drums.

'If you're asking if I want to know what the fuck is going on and if I want Sam back… yes.'

'Your request for an application has been heard. We will make a decision as to whether we will allow this appeal and you will be informed in due course. I will suggest in the meantime that you go to your quarters and stay there until you are called.'

Floyd shook his head. 'No, you've misunderstood. I'm here to tell you to give me my damned dog back and to ask why the fuck you were talking to Otikami when I won that fight.'

'We will consult on the matter and let you know our answer.'

'Fuck you! I need to go back for Spencer! I need to go back to him!'

'You're earthly needs are revoked for the time being. You had a clear path to follow and you chose to ignore the orders you were given. You will await our decision. The Spencer doesn't need you. The Spencer has moved on. Now please leave. We will let you know when your case comes up.'

'What about Sam?'

'The Sam will be recycled. There is no appeal available for that.'

'He's mine!'

'Otikami had previously claimed him. Otikami has requested that The Sam is destroyed and recycled. He's no longer your concern.'

Floyd stood his ground. 'No… Sam was throw away by Otikami and The Sam came to my assistance. The Sam came back to me. He was mine. And he died as mine. Otikami has no claim.'

'The Sam will be destroyed on the forth bell and be recycled.'

'Forth bell? What the fuck? What the hell does that mean? I need him back! It's the reason I'm here! I fucking threw myself off a building to get back here! I killed myself for The Sam! I have a right… a legal right to reclaim him and return with him!'

There was a sharp intake of breath. It was so long and deep that Floyd could feel the air rushing past him and his hair sweeping forwards. His shirt billowed out at the front and the air was sucked out of his lungs. He rubbed at his temples with fingertips.

'You died because you were sick from wounds Otikami gave you. Can you say you would have followed the same path had you not been injured? We listed to what Otikami told us. We understand that you took his head, but if you died because you were sick of the wounds then he killed you too. You didn't kill yourself Flanders… Otikami killed you.'

Floyd walked in a tight circle and spat something nasty onto the floor. 'I would have done it anyway. I need The Sam.'

'We will consider what has been said.'

That was the end of it. They refused to discuss his case further. They refused to even tell him if they would discuss it again later. They told him that for now he was bound. He couldn't return. He was killed in battle (apparently) and had no more right to return than The Otikami did or The Sam did. He was told he'd get used to it. They would consider the return of the dog if they had time before the forth bell.

When the devil the forth bell was Floyd had no idea.

But he returned to his quarters.

And he sulked.

Alone.

And he set things in motion for when he returned. He might not physically be there, but he could still play certain little games.

o-o-o

A card arrived in the post for Hotchner. Not Aaron, but for Jack. It was in a blue envelope and had his name printed on the front. Hotch didn't give it to Jack though. There was something funny about it. The post mark was smudged and he couldn't read it. And why would someone send something to Jack when it wasn't close to his birthday. It was maybe a slightly mean thing to do, but Jack was young enough not to know. Hotch carefully eased the envelope open and pulled the card out. There was a picture on the front of a dog playing with a ball. Nothing alarming about it at all. The inside though had a familiar scrawl of writing across it. _Keeping my eye on you, little soldier. Fondest best wishes… Uncle Floyd xxx_ Hotch didn't realise at first that his hand was shaking. The didn't realise until the card slipped from fingers which were going slightly numb and it drifted down to the floor. He bent to pick it up again but then moved quickly back away from it. He slammed the office door and called Dave. After giving him a brief description of what had happened he hung up and called Spencer.

Joel answered the phone. 'Heya and sunny happy days to you. How can I help?'

'I need to talk to Spencer. Urgently.'

'Do you? Well maybe I'll go call him if you ask me nicely.'

Hotch didn't like Flanders. He really didn't like him, but this Joel didn't seem a whole lot better! How long had it been before the man had moved in with Spencer? A week? Two? Maybe a month, but it hadn't been long. Spencer hadn't even had time to breathe and this thug was there with his tattoos playing at being the good loving _husband_.

'Hey Hotch.' Spencer sounded out of breath? Beaten? Like he'd been crying?

No point in softening things. 'Have you heard from Floyd?'

Spencer snorted a laugh and reeled off a few letters and numbers. 'The plot number you gave me? I've not been there and if I had he wouldn't talk to me. As you so firmly informed me, Floyd is dead.'

'You would tell me if something happened?'

'Hotch, nothing is going to happen. I just want to get on with my life. I'm happy. I'm very happy actually. I feel safe and I have a life.'

'Be careful Spencer.'

'I will, but is there a reason you're asking me?' The telephone was being gripped like a vice.

'I received a card. Or rather Jack did. From Flanders. I cant track it… I don't think I can track it.'

'It must have got lost in the post Hotch. Show the envelope to Garcia. She'll sort it. Dead men cant post cards to kids. It's not possible and you did assure me that he was dead.' Joel snatched the phone from Spencer and spoke down the phone to Hotch.

'Please leave us alone. We are happy and settled and this sort of thing brings back nightmares and increases his paranoia. Don't call here again.' Joel slammed the phone down and wrapped his arms around Spencer. 'I think it's time we visited that plot. We can stop off somewhere and get something… a marker for it… a flower? You said he got you that rose. Get the man a rose and place it there. You need to end this Spencer before it kills you. You need closure.'

* * *

><p><strong>an: OK I know where this needs to go, but the progress is VERY slow. I am thinking I should stop this now and move on with another fic set sometime later… or I'm going to end up dragging this through day after day. Let me know.**


	16. Chapter 16

Murder Weekend

A year. A whole year. Around now marked a time where Spencer had lost what he desired the most and found something which didn't even come close to replacing it. He had his nice home. He had a man. That man professed to love Spencer. He kept telling him that he did and Spencer maybe cruelly let this man think it was reciprocated. But it wasn't. When Joel was out working, Spencer was scrubbing floors and cooking food, going shopping, doing laundry, washing the cars. The long boring days were balanced by the nights. Joel often brought people home with him. Young men he'd met in the bar he'd popped into on the way home. Young men who sometimes stopped for a drink and something to eat and sometimes stopped the night; in his bed with Joel, and Spencer suspected that Joel paid for some of these lads' company. Actually on closer reflection it was _Floyd's_ bed.

Spencer made appointments with doctors. They gave him something to stop him from feeling depressed, anxious, stressed, but they couldn't give him back Floyd.

He had visited the cemetery just the once. He had done what Joel had suggested and sought closure and as far as Joel was concerned that is what had happened. Spencer had cried and Joel had let him. Joel thought that Spencer had gotten his lost love out of his system. For Spencer though it just locked him into an even deeper depression. He knew that though the name on the small metal plaque had read _Floyd Flanders Franks aged 32,_ that it wasn't Floyd under that earth. It drove Spencer into deeper paranoia. He argued with Joel over his need to keep the red tape over the locks. He had still not gone into the attic and Joel had slapped Spencer hard across the face and told him that he was behaving like a _damned school girl_, when he came home from work to find the small attic door nailed shut and tape placed over the nails.

Spencer had been tempted at that point to explain to Joel that this wasn't his house! Spencer would do what he pleased in it, but he didn't. He'd been tempted again a week later when Joel had accidentally kicked him in the tender parts during an argument over laundry, to throw him out. It wasn't Joel's house, but Joel ruled it with an iron fist. There was a very small matter that Spencer wasn't paying the mortgage for this lovely place. It wasn't his money going out of his account each month to pay for the pleasure of having somewhere to be fucked his new friend. Floyd was still paying for it and that meant that sooner or later Spencer was going to have to pay him back. As would Joel. There had been times when Spencer had attempted very vaguely to explain this to Joel, but any mention of Floyd got the man in some kind of temper. Any mention that Joel should maybe not actually move in, was ignored. The subtle hints that they should get a new bed were laughed at. The bed was amazing. Why replace something which was such an invitation to have fun on? There was no need nor reason to replace it.

Except that it was Floyd's bed.

And for this they were both going to have to pay… How do you explain that your dead ex will come and kill them both when they're least expecting it? How do you tell someone that the person buried in the cemetery isn't who the marker says it is? How do you tell someone that he's only there to fill a very empty space? You don't. You carry on and just hope that Floyd understands.

And Floyd understood very well. Only his understanding of what was going on in his bed with his man, was not the same understanding Spencer was hoping for.

But now a year had passed. Joel was still living in Spencer's house. Spencer was still doing his laundry and cooking his food and clearing up after him… letting Joel's friends screw him if that's what was required to keep the peace. Spencer had willingly replaced a violent bully who he loved with one who he despised and pretended to love.

'I got us this.' Joel had announced and passed Spencer a big brown envelope. 'To celebrate a year.'

Spencer took it cautiously and looked at the contents. A Murder Weekend in an apparent Haunted House. 'You shouldn't have.' Really he shouldn't have. A murder weekend? A haunted house? Two of the very last things which Spencer wanted to do.

'It will be fun. You can solve all the puzzles in the first hour.' Joel laughed.

'Yes. It will be fun.' Spencer smiled. He'd learnt how to smile properly and not let Joel see his displeasure or dislike for something. It was not something he could have done with Floyd. Floyd could sniff out deceit as quick as a cat would sniff out a fish.

'I just want you to be happy Spence.'

Spencer _hated_ Joel calling him that. It made him want to scream and scratch Joel's eyes right out of his face. He stood with the envelope and ground his teeth. 'I _am_ happy. Really I am.' He lied. He lied so much that he didn't even notice that he was doing it anymore.

o-o-o

Floyd enlisted the companionship of a creature called Jibb. It was a Sam type thing, but not really quite. Not really quite anything really, but a messenger. It didn't have a gender. It didn't have anything which Floyd could use to stick his dick into. There was a mouth full of very sharp greedy teeth, but that was all and Floyd had zero intention of putting something he held (often) so precious into that maw. Jibb was able to sit and drink and smoke and laugh and, yes, Jibb was a good fellow to send off on little jobs. Jibb's Jobs, as Floyd called them and that was about the only thing which even came close to putting a smile on Floyd's face. Only it wasn't quite a smile… more of a twitch at the corner of his mouth to match the twitch at the corner of his eye. He could give Jibb a long list of instructions and send him off knowing that they would be fulfilled to an OK degree. It wasn't as though Floyd had a choice. He couldn't go down there and send _Happy Birthday!_ wishes to Jack personally, but he could fill in the card and tell Jack that he was still watching out for him and that he'd never forget him. All Jibb had to do was pop it in a post box somewhere. Anywhere. The place it was sent from didn't matter. There was the occasional gift sent too. A new Soccer ball. A games machine with a load of age appropriate games. A laptop with educational software. Nothing which Hotchner could find reason to be angry with, except that they were gifts from Uncle Floyd. Whether Jack ever received them or not, Floyd didn't know. He assumed that Hotchner kept the gifts locked away somewhere or that they were discarded and put in the trash. It didn't matter. What mattered was that Floyd was sewing the seeds which would make Hotchner itch like hell and perhaps if Floyd played it right would send Hotchner into a paranoid frenzy where it concerned Jack.

Jibb had also become Floyd's messenger concerning _Them_ and their continued block of anything Floyd requested – (apart from Jibb.) Finally though Jibb returned after delivering yet another rant to The Powers, with a small red pebble.

'Them say I need gives you this.' He dropped the stone onto the floor at his master's feet. 'Thee gonna havta go sees them? Thee comin' back to I?'

Floyd picked up the pebble and slipped it into his pocket. He thought about killing Jibb for his poor grammar and then thought it would make his little nest a mess. 'Clean this place up will you?' Floyd waved a hand around the mess his tent was in. It was a huge tent. More of a canvas house. But it was a tent nonetheless and Floyd wanted bricks around him… not something which could so easily be set to flame by some careless underdog demon like Jibb. 'And 'ware the fire. I don't want to come back to a pile of ash again. Understand me?'

Jibb gave Floyd a salute and dropped to one knee. 'Understands you.' He muttered. It had only happened a couple of times. Jibb thought Floyd was over reacting and a bit paranoid. Everything everywhere in all times and all places no matter what or who could be replaced. Floyd had told him that himself the first time he set the place alight. The second time though Floyd had been in a bad mood all ready and Jibb had received a broken arm for it. The third time Jibb had disappeared for a week until his master's rage had died down. He had returned on his belly and pleading forgiveness. It had been given after Floyd had stamped on his miserable head a few times.

Now Floyd pulled his clothes together, finger brushed his hair and with his pebble which was his invitation to go and seek an appeal he set off across the darkness. It didn't matter which direction he walked in. Here there was no north or south. Here was all the same all over at all times. It made things very annoying when you attempted to run from something. You kept coming back to the place you started from. It was as though the whole place was huge circle, or ball and wherever you started off from somehow was the same distance to the place you were going, even if you changed your mind and tried to go back again. Sometimes the distance was greater than others, but it made no difference. If you turned around and started to walk back again you'd still end up walking the same amount of steps for the same amount of time. The place could seriously do your head in. Really it could and by the time Floyd had reached the place he was meant to be going, his head was about as done in as it could be.

They told him to get on his knees and present the invitation. Floyd stood and threw it at them and called them some names and gave them precise instructions on where to stick the pebble. He _did_ kneel, but only when they offered him an invite to decapitation. He went down on one knee and kept his eyes down too. They then gave him the wonderful news that although Otikami had indeed given his case, it had been refused. Otikami had been sent away. They did though confirm the fact that Floyd had only won the fight because he managed to live for longer than a week after the initial wound had been given. That was very good news. Floyd allowed himself a small smile. They told him that they'd noted that he'd been making good use of Jibb and asked if he would like the creature to be a permanent companion. Floyd now looked up into those hundred or so red eyes and shook his head slowly. 'I want The Sam returned.' He told them. 'Though Jibb is a good worker, he's hardly a replacement.'

'We will consider this.' A thousand demon voices spoke in unison.

A consideration was better than an outright refusal. Floyd again let a small smile creep across his face. 'Thank you.' Damnit he hated having to thank these bastards for something which should be his anyway, but occasionally you just had to accept things and try to go with the flow.

'Your gratitude is spat back at you as it is false.' Those damned voices spoke with ice coolness.

Floyd's smile disappeared and was replaced by that small twitch next to his eye. 'We need to discuss my return. I need to go back and reclaim Spencer. I have to go back with Sam and…'

'You may, but we have a small slightly amusing task for you to carry out first. If you complete it to our satisfaction then you will get The Sam back and will be given every opportunity to reclaim The Spencer.'

'Again I thank you.' He tried really hard to make this sound sincere, but thought by the lack of reply that he'd failed again.

'We hope that you realise that you've broken every commandment given to you so far. You lack discipline and motivation to keep on track. You are self absorbed and you seem to forget who you work for.'

'You are correct. I've been very naughty on occasion. But you must admit that you drive me to distraction sometimes, and once I am distracted I lose all sense of priorities.'

'You are only still able to exist because your constant failure is amusing. We like to see you run, chasing your tail. This time though you will go and do the task at hand and if you fail you will be bound here and stripped of any level you've somehow managed to scrape up.'

'I understand.' Floyd lowered his eyes again.

'Then leave. Your reprieve has been granted. You will receive instructions when we can find the time to deliver them. Send that creature crawling to us again and we will remove his head.'

'I will await further instructions with gratitude in my heart and a lightness in my spirit.'

They told him to fuck off and go back to his tent. They also told him that he would have to carry with him a reminder of this battle with The Otikami. It seemed only right. He had been injured by demon weapons. He would have to bare the reminder. That reminder kicked in half way back to Jibb and the smell of smoke drifting on something which might have been breeze. Luckily for Jibb is wasn't Floyd's palace which was on fire but just a few burning sticks where the creature had attempted to make a camp fire.

Floyd arrived in a foul mood. His right leg was screaming agony from hip to knee, from there down it was a dull throbbing sensation, but if that was a precursor to something worse or how it was going to stay, he didn't know. What he did know was that he wasn't a happy bunny.

'I gots thee this.' Jibb held out some smouldering meat on a stick. 'Figure yous gonna wanna break my bones. Thee like?'

'Cheers Jibb.' Floyd took it and nibbled on the fatty burnt meat.

'I rolled some of yours smokes for yers.' He held out a hand full of badly rolled smokes. 'Was best I did.'

Floyd took those too and lay back with a sigh. 'Don't look so scared of me Jibb. I'm not going to hurt you.'

'You say it. You don't means it though. Thee say all sorts and lie through your fucking teeth. I still likes thee though.'

'Yeah? Well today I'm not going to hurt you. Relax. Have a smoke.'

'And tomorrows thees gonna break my arm for being a son of a bitch.' Jibb smiled a smile which seemed to open up the entire front of his distorted smooth black face. The tiny razor sharp teeth twinkled in the firelight. For some reason Jibb reminded Floyd of his Princess. He didn't know what it was about the creature which made him think that, but he thought maybe it was those teeth. Dreadful things they were… Like shark's teeth. Killer's teeth. Floyd would have loved some himself.

In the meantime, Sam was crawling out, once again, from the arse of a blob. He coughed, puked, cried… and was instantly devoured again.

o-o-o

Spencer had done what Joel called _going off on one_ the morning they left for their weekend away. It was something to do with not wanting to go stay in a house in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by forest and having no cell signal. It was too late to cancel. Too late to change their plans. Spencer was being unreasonable and selfish. Joel thought he'd done something nice. Something to have some fun with and be away from the city for a while at the same time. He explained this with his loud voice and still Spencer didn't seem to be getting the message. He then followed up his words with painful punctuation using his fists.

Joel was still not sure that Spencer had gotten the message he was trying to deliver but didn't want to actually knock Spencer out cold. There was a bloody nose, a slight swelling around his eye and some lovely bruises coming up on Spencer's upper arms. Bruises which had been made when Joel had gripped him there and given him a hell of a shaking. 'Get in the fucking motor and stop making a damned fuss about everything. We're going to be in a house for the love of the saints, not in the forest. What's your fucking problem?'

It was a big problem. And the problem in Spencer's mind was increasing as the minutes crept by. 'It's nothing. Nothing.' He told Joel, but now Joel wanted to know why, if it was suddenly not a problem, why Spencer had made such a girly fuss about it in the first place.

'It's just that I don't feel safe if the place is haunted.' Spencer muttered.

It was then loudly explained that there was no such thing as ghosts or monsters under the beds or hiding in shadows. It was just a game. A fun game. It was no more dangerous than playing paintball.

Spencer thought paintball was a horrifically dangerous game to play. He had the statistics of accidents there in his head and then there in his mouth all ready to tell Joel, but the slap around his face stopped him. 'Well as long as you don't leave me on my own, I guess I'll feel safe.' Another lie. A great big whopper of a lie. 'I'm sorry.' He wiped a dribble of blood away from the corner of his mouth. 'Do you want me to drive?'

'And end up in Florida?'

'Why would we end up in Florida? That's the wrong direction, I'd have to…'

'Fucking hell. It was a joke. I'll drive. My treat.'

And such a treat it was too.

The place was totally fabulous. Spencer had to agree on that. He had to because if he'd not Joel would have had to have explained everything to Spencer _again_ about how lucky he was to have found him when his life was going down the pan. How lucky Spencer was to have someone to protect and love him. 'I _do_ love you.' Joel told Spencer. 'You know I will spend the rest of my life with you.'

Spencer didn't doubt that for one minute. He gave Joel a smile. 'I really am sorry that the morning started off so badly. It's just, though I know we are celebrating a year together, I am also thinking…'

'Well I don't want to hear about your past lovers. Really not today Spencer. Maybe later? Maybe another trip to the cemetery?'

Reid nodded. 'A trip to the cemetery.' He said. It seemed like that was exactly the direction he was heading in, though not to visit the fake grave. At least not Floyd's. He licked his lips and looked up at the spooky old house. Spencer thought it probably wasn't as old as it was made to look. The plants seemed to have been left to run riot and run up the side of the house but it was somehow false. As fake as Taki's paradise or Floyd's grave. There was a middle aged woman standing outside having a smoke. She looked up at the two good looking men as they approached and gave them a smile.

'It's going to be a great weekend.' She smiled at them both.

* * *

><p><strong>an: OK I've decided to carry on for now... short chapter today... things going on here at home causing a helluva lot of distractions. xox**


	17. Chapter 17

17

Spencer felt the hairs standing up on the back of his neck. He could feel sweat popping up on his brow. He looked at the house, the woman, Joel and then at the things hanging from the trees. He wanted to get back in the car and get out of here ASAP. There was no way in hell he was going to stay here the night. No damned way in hell. Not with those _things_ hanging from the trees.

'I have nightmares.' Spencer muttered to Joel as he turned and attempted to go back to the car.

Joel knew about the nightmares. He'd heard Spencer on occasion shout out suddenly in his sleep. The first few times it had happened he'd just sat and watched Spencer thrashing around shouting out strange words; he'd been led to understand that if you woke someone up from a nightmare that they could die of the shock. Some TV show had once said that if you tried to wake someone up from a nightmare or bad dream that they could be trapped in that nightmare forever and the person would become insane. Both things were obviously wrong. He did start to wake Spencer up when the shouts and flailing around happened. He got slapped sometimes, but not as much as he would slap Spencer back… to wake him up properly… 'I know you do.' Joel said.

'Specific nightmares.' Spencer spoke quietly. He didn't really want that woman who had lit up another cigarette to hear this. 'About scarecrows.'

Joel looked at the dangling scarecrows hanging from the trees. 'Really? They're just stuffed things you know? They're not real. Come on…' Now dragged Spencer behind him. '… I'll show you.'

Well Spencer wasn't going to go look. 'No.' He stood firm and pulled away from Joel who Spencer knew wouldn't hit him in public. That was one of the major differences about the way Joel treated him to the way Floyd did. Floyd would happily slap Spencer around in public. Floyd didn't care what other people said or thought about him. Floyd didn't give a shit if someone thought it wrong that he would clobber Spencer. He ignored the hisses of disapproval from the public. Joel though, Joel liked to keep up the appearance of this nice tall fair man, with a lot of tattoos. He liked people to think he as a nice person, generous, thoughtful, funny… mostly they saw through the thin veneer, but not always and Joel didn't notice if they did. However it did mean that Joel never slapped or talked down to Spencer in public. Not unless he really needed something said or done, in which case… a pinch or a kick was always better anyway.

'You can be an awkward bitch sometimes.' Joel hissed under his breath. 'Get you pretty butt into the house then and let's get this party started!' He hooked an arm around Spencer's and they walked arm in arm towards the doorway, which had been vacated now. The woman was gone, but Spencer could smell her cigarettes and see the butts stuffed down inside the soft peat of a plant pot which was attempting to grow some sort of fern.

The house in Joel's honest opinion was as fake as a nine bob bit. The furniture was not as old as it was made out to look, but apart from that it was a nice place. A lovely atmosphere. A few other people had gathered and everyone had been handed a bit of printed paper. It had their room numbers printed on the top and then a list of things which were set up for the Friday evening, Saturday and Sunday morning. There were set meal times but the bar was open until the last person drifted away, though it was suggested that people took early nights to prepare for the fun of the weekend. They were given a map of the house with the rooms there were allowed to investigate marked in red, ones out of bounds were marked in blue.

'The kitchens and staff areas.'

They were informed.

Someone took bags up to rooms and that was it. The doors were closed. The windows were locked. Cell phone reception seemed to be blocked in some manner, but Joel's phone was turned off and Spencer hadn't even bothered to bring his. Spencer wanted to ask about the scarecrows outside, but everyone in the room, which was a large dining room with a very long table which sat all twelve of the guests, shrugged. They did all seem to be guests, though Spencer knew that at least and probably half of them were staff who were going to be part of the puzzle for the weekend. It was going to be a drag. Playing at detecting who did a murder seemed, to Spencer, very childish. It wasn't something he was even slightly interested in doing, but it was his first year anniversary… He intended to keep the peace with Joel and yet mourn Floyd at the same time.

It was a place which had boards on the floors with scattered rugs which looked as though there were cheap copies of something nice. There was, Spencer noted, a chandelier in the middle of the ceiling in the dining room and the luxurious lounge. Spencer also noted that it was made of pre-moulded glass and not cut crystal as Floyd would have insisted upon. It was nice, but yes, it was also fake. If a corner could be cut it had been. The stairs creaked. There seemed to be odd sounds coming from behind the walls. The bed mad a dreadful crunking sound when Joel sat on it. Spencer assumed they'd been given the room with the noisy bed so that the whole house would hear every thrust that Joel gave him. The bathroom was small. Only room for one person at a time in the small shower cubical and again Spencer thought this had been purposeful. They couldn't turn them away for being gay, but they could certainly make sure that they had as little _fun_ as possible. Spencer sort of hoped that the little things would stop Joel from getting what he would want, but he doubted that his hope would get him very far.

The place had a horrible atmosphere. Though it was obviously set up to spook people, there was something horribly wrong with the building. They said it was haunted, and though Joel had laughed that off, Spencer wasn't so sure. There was a smell. A faint smell but also a familiar smell. It was a musky dark haunt of a smell which seemed to follow him wherever he went and the feel of the place wasn't made any better when Spencer looked out of the window and saw the line of scarecrows hanging there, swaying… even though there was no wind and the branches of the trees weren't moving and though the leaves were still and quiet, those damned things were still swaying slowly back and forth, and occasionally twirling around. Spencer checked that he could lock the window and having checked that a few times and rattled on the frame to make sure it wouldn't just fall out, he pulled the curtains closed.

Five minutes later when Joel was changing out of his travelling clothes and into jeans and a muscle Tshirt, Spencer checked the window again. Joel had lived with Spencer's odd obsession with windows and doors for a year now and though it still annoyed the hell out of him he was now able to bite back on snide comments and pretend to ignore it.

'I'm going to have a quick shower.' Joel let Spencer know. 'You get changed. I'll be five minutes.' And though that was plenty of time for Spencer to get changed, Joel thought he'd find Spencer checking the damned window again when he returned.

The water was lovely and refreshing and hot. He had piled his clothes, which he stripped out of again, on the closed toilet lid. He stepped into the water and wet his muscular inked body with a citrus shower gel and tipped his head back, just enjoying the feel of the water over his skin. It was a delightful surprise when he felt Spencer's hands on his back. He sighed happily. At least Spencer was finally getting into the mood of the weekend and trying to relax. The hands moved over Joel's butt and a finger slid down between his legs as another hand gripped his manhood and began a rough (for Spencer) massage. A tongue licked over his back and moved up to the back of his neck and to his ear. Joel was in a world of total delight as a voice whispered in his ear.

'He's mine. Touch him and die.'

'What the fuck?'

Spencer spun to see a naked and partially excited Joel standing dripping wet at the bathroom doorway. Spencer had been peeking through the curtains and dropped them quickly and spun to look at his _boyfriend_ standing there with bubbles still on his shoulders. 'Joel… I was just checking.'

'Not that!' Joel spun again and walked back to the bathroom and grabbed a towel. 'Not that!' He shouted from the small white tiled room.

'Then what?' Spencer who was still in the clothes he had on for the trip took a few steps to the bathroom door. 'What's wrong?'

Joel tucked the towel in around his middle and marched again out of the bathroom. 'The fuck?' He boomed again. 'Someone was in the shower with me. Who the hell did you let in? Who the fuck _was_ that? And how?'

Spencer just looked confused. No one had been in the room apart from the pair of them. 'I think you were dreaming, Joel. It's just the two of us. I think I would know if someone walked through the room.

'He was giving me a fucking hand job! I thought it was you until he spoke. Stop fucking with me! Who was it? I'm going to kill the mother fucking shit! No one threatens me, Spence. No one. You hear me? That wasn't fucking funny!'

Spencer walked quickly to him. 'Hush… everyone will hear you. What did this person say? But I promise you, no one was in the room but the two of us.'

'Something like "if I touch you, I'm gonna die," not quite that, but near enough.'

Reid said nothing. He looked at Joel and then at the curtains and back to Joel again. 'You know we can leave if you want.'

The slap across Spencer's face was hard enough to knock him off his feet. He flailed sideways and stumbled over his own feet and landed in a painful lump next to the bed. 'Well, there! I've fucking touched you! What you gonna do about it huh? What you gonna do?'

Spencer pushed himself up onto his elbows and looked at Joel. 'I'm not going to do anything. I didn't threaten you. It wasn't me. Maybe you're more spooked by this place than you'd like to admit, but I didn't join you in the shower. I'd be wet if I had and I didn't threaten you.'

'Well I suppose the fucking ghost did then!' Joel howled at Spencer. 'Get up off the floor you lame fuck and get changed. I'm not letting you out of my damned sight for the rest of the weekend.'

Spencer sighed, put a hand to the side of his face which felt hot and he wiped away the tear which was running down his face. 'I'll get changed then.' Spencer whispered. 'Dinner is served in about ten minutes. We don't want to be late and miss out on some of the fun.'

'Fuck you.' Joel spat at Spencer and Spencer thought that was probably the problem. He wanted to smile. He wanted to reach out and feel for whoever had done that to Joel. He had a very good idea who it was.

o-o-o

Floyd had been given the task of a straight forward and quite boring _demonic haunting_. It was one of the things that they did occasionally just to amuse themselves. They would look down as though peering at a giant television screen set into the black floor and watch one of their own scare the bejesus out of a group of people. Sometimes it was in a house, sometimes on a boat or a train, or maybe just out in the street. They'd send someone down who needed to learn a lesson. Flanders' lesson was to _do as he was damned well told to do_, but they thought he'd fail. Flanders usually failed. The few times he'd followed instructions to the letter appeared to have actually hurt Flanders. They'd told him to kill Little River, who Flanders claimed was his first love and Flanders went a bit funny in the head after that. They then told him to kill Anthony, who was another person Flanders claimed to love. Again he'd had a mighty funny turn afterwards and had been pulled back for repairs before he did more damage than they were prepared to let him do.

The order to dispatch Reid had been given more than once and Flanders and refused each time. And on the occasions when Spencer had slipped from life, Flanders had come whining back to them, crawling on his belly and begging them to give Spencer back. It had all become a bit of a laugh, watching Flanders slowly fall apart and become less of what he had been each time. The Sam thing then… yes… they liked that too. They loved to watch Flanders running around trying to keep both of his boys in check, because both of them were quite loose. They were sluts. How long had it taken Spencer to find someone to replace Flanders? Oh they laughed about that. Yes that tickled them mightily.

So a haunting was due. Flanders wanted Spencer back? Well let him do both at the same time.

'Go kill and have fun, but get caught and the game ends. They will have things to keep you back and try to repel you so keep your guard up.'

Floyd had scoffed at them. He didn't do hauntings. Never had done them… they were silly. There were for the youngsters to mess with. But he went anyway. If this was a way to get Spencer, then he'd do it.

'Can I take The Sam with me?' Floyd had asked.

He didn't get a reply so he guessed not.

Task number one, which hadn't really been on his _to do_ list was to scare the shit out of him in the shower. Floyd was sure that Spencer could sense that he was there, and to make damned sure that the whore knew he'd arranged the scarecrows outside. Oh he laughed. Well no, not laughed so much as managed not to kill Joel on sight and punish Spencer by rubbing chilli peppers on his scrotum. He resisted the latter urge but being able to resist killing the bitch tramp with a fucking _butterfly_ tattooed on the small of his back was going to be harder… _Butterfly_! For the love of crazy arsed fucks what was going through that idiot's head when he did that? Spencer's tramp stamp on his shoulder was much nicer, but he supposed it was not so much a sign of trampage but more of ownerage and he'd forgotten who owned him. He would get a few reminders this weekend.

The task was simple. Mix with the guests. Frighten them till they vomit and shit themselves and reclaim Spencer from Joel. There was meant to be no actual bloodshed unless it was really necessary.

Bloodshed is always necessary and they'd said he could kill, but maybe he was meant to be subtle? HUH? Fuck subtle. And he probably had at some point in his past.

Joel was going to find that out, but before he was permitted to tear the arsehole apart he had to get Spencer to admit to the man who it was he really wanted. And…

AND:

Floyd wasn't _not_ allowed to contact Spencer, at least not directly. He couldn't help it if Spencer could smell him though, could he? Nope… so sniff away my babes… sniff away… Then… yes, then I'll rub the fucking chilli peppers over your retreating terrified balls.

Floyd followed at a discreet distance of about one foot, behind the loving couple as they walked down to dinner. Spencer in some brown cords and a white shirt and Joel with his jeans and muscle Tshirt. Joel reached out for Spencer's hand.

'What the hell was that?' Joel spun around and looked back down the corridor towards their room. 'Something's there.'

Spencer turned too and gave a small helpless smile. That smell was close, very close. A rich cloying smell of Floyd and Spencer put his hand out as though something was there which he could feel. It was like getting a static shock off something. He saw the tiny hairs on the back of his hand rise up. He could almost hear the crackling in the air. 'What did you see?' Spencer asked in a far away voice.

'Didn't see anything. I heard something hissing in my ear.'

Spencer raised an eyebrow. 'I think that maybe there might be a problem with their electrics. We should ask when we see someone.'

'Electrics? You think I'm imagining this?'

Spencer now took Joel's hand and moved to walk back down the corridor. 'I don't think you're imagining anything. You said that this place was haunted. Even if you don't believe in such things, something must have given the place the reputation. I actually feel happier now we are in the house. Though I am sure I know that there are actually monsters under beds and in closets, there are no monsters in this house. Maybe some misty grey lady will walk down the stairs, but that sort of thing are just visual. They cant hurt you and they cant hiss things in your ear.' Spencer put his lips close to Joel's ear. 'And they certainly wont give you sexual pleasure in the shower.'

'There was something there.' Joel snapped back.

'Then maybe we need to ask if anyone else has experienced anything?' Floyd was here. Floyd was definitely here and though the idea of spooks and monsters did make Spencer's skin crawl, if indeed Floyd was here… he had a much bigger thing to worry about. He wanted to get away from Joel and try to talk to Floyd. But after the bathroom thing he didn't think that was going to be so easy.

He had to more than _talk_ to Floyd. He had a feeling he was going to have to beg on his knees to him.

Floyd didn't know who he was more pissed off with, Spencer or Joel. Joel was going to have to die, there was no other way around this, but Spencer was going to have to be punished too. Maybe not here, but later… once Floyd was fully back and not just this _thing_ floating around. He gave Joel a little shove near the bottom of the stairs. Not too much. Not enough to make him fall, but enough to freak him out. He was sure he'd felt hands on his back and they couldn't have been Spencer's hands because Spencer was holding the hand rail with one and his own hand with the other.

'This fucking place.' Joel griped. 'It's meant to be fun.'

'Then let it be fun. It's just playing tricks on your mind.'

'You were the one complaining about haunted houses. You were the one freaking over some dolls hanging in the trees, so why the sudden change of heart? Why's this not bothering you too?'

Spencer let go of Joel's hand. They were standing in the big hallway at the foot of the stairs. Joel staring angrily at Spencer. 'It's Floyd.' Spencer blurted out.

Joel took hold of the top of Spencer's arms and pushed him against the wall, shaking him once and making Reid's head smack on the painted plaster. 'This is _our_ fucking weekend away. Our celebration and you have to mention that fuck! I don't want to ever hear his name again. Do you understand me Spence? Do you?' Another shake with fingers embedded deep into Spencer's arms. 'He was a creep and a monster. He was a nasty mother fucking shit! I don't know what you liked about him. He was short and scrawny and going by reports he had a small dick and didn't give much pleasure with it. Crap in bed. Crap to look at. No manners. And he stank! The man was a filthy pervert who fucked little boys. I know! I saw that person you say you loved, with that kid. I saw his hands sliding down the front of his jeans. I saw him! Why the fuck you still talk about him I don't know! He's dead! Why the hell would he be here? Even if the dead could come back and haunt somewhere, which they damned well can't, why in hell's name would he come to this place! Say his name again, or even _hint_ at his name and I'm going to hit you so hard you'll be waiting for me in next week. You get me? Are you listening to me?'

Spencer's head smacked on the wall again as Joel shook him again. 'I hear you!' Spencer tried to pull away. 'I hear you. I'm sorry. Joel you're hurting me. Stop it. People will see. They will hear.'

'Then keep your moaning voice down. I wont have reason to slap you and explain to you if you didn't keep pissing me off so much.'

Spencer slid out from where he was being held. 'I'm hungry. I'm going to go and have my dinner and talk to the other guests. I know you didn't like Floyd, but I loved him. I still love him… and you're going to have to deal…' The punch to his eye stopped further talk.

'I fucking warned you!' Joel spat into Spencer's face. 'You're mine now! He's dead. Get the hell over it! It's been a year Spencer, a damned year. Mention him again and…'

'I'm going to dinner.' Spencer cut him off. 'You're welcome to join me if you wish. Hit me again and I'm going home.'

'Has anyone ever told you how cute you look when you're angry?'

Spencer sighed. 'Yes.' He turned and walked quickly to the dining room.


	18. Chapter 18

18

Spencer walked into the large _fancy_ dining room with Joel close on his heels. To Spencer it felt like someone had just shone a glaring spotlight on him and the staring faces were expecting him to break into song or tell a funny joke. There were eight people sitting around the long shiny wooden table. Four places were empty.

'Ah, the love birds.' Someone quipped as the pair of them walked moodily into the room.

Spencer kept his eyes down and away from those grinning, curious faces, but Joel stared right back at them. 'I'm here for my dinner, which I've paid for in advance, not to hear your amusing comments.' Joel snarled, placed a hand on Spencer's shoulder and guided him to his place at the table. There were little name cards sitting there and much to Joel's annoyance Spencer wasn't placed to sit next to him. He was though facing him across the food warmers set along the centre of the table.

'Then you shouldn't have your spats where we can all hear you.' The quipper replied.

Spencer muttered something which sounded like, 'Sorry.' And Joel glared menacingly at everyone.

It was fairly obvious to a few people at the table that these two were part of the _game_. The actors set in place to make the weekend as murderously fun as it could be. It was, though, obvious to four of the people sitting there that these two people were _not_ part of their little troupe. And they didn't much like the look of the big guy with the tattoos and the loud voice. The room fell into silence as they sat there looking at the empty plates in front of them and smelling the lovely scent of food being prepared back in the kitchen. Spencer took this small bit of peace to have a more careful look around the room. Again the glass chandelier, bookshelves with what looked to be more fakery, a window with dark red curtains which had been closed – (he wondered if the window was locked and thought briefly about getting up and checking. He then considered leaving the room and going back to check the window in the bedroom… then the idea that they'd not locked their bedroom door crossed his mind.) 'Joel?' Spencer broke the silence. 'Did you lock the bedroom door?'

Faces swung around to look at them. 'Fuck the door.' Joel replied.

'It's just that…' Spencer started.

'The boy is paranoid. Has some kind on OCD when it comes to windows and doors.' Joel kindly explained.

The room fell back into silence and again Reid looked around the room to see if there was anything there of any interest. A big open fireplace, but the fire wasn't lit and he had a good idea that the _logs_ sitting there were plastic or some such. There was no smell in the room which grand fireplaces like that would always give off. His eyes then started to drift down the table to look at the other people, but seeing them looking right back at him, he turned his attention to his fork and sat fiddling with that and pleaded with Floyd to come and show himself.

Floyd stood by those dark red drapes and watched everything carefully. He marked the empty places with a grin on his face. He marked who was a guest and who was paid staff. He marked who he was going to slaughter first and smiled a lazy arsed smile. He was going to get this right. There was no way in mother's hell that he was going to fail this time. It meant too much to him. Much too much. It wasn't a matter of twisting the rules and trying to get by and fuck around… no, this was Spencer he was playing for and he was playing against creatures who held his fates in their many clawed hands… Sam's fates too. Wasn't worth fucking with them. He had to keep his cool. Had to stay calm. The first two kills had been made already. They'd been made before the… well not before the first guests arrived, but before the third had.

He turned and though the curtains were closed he could see straight out into the gardens beyond the window and over to where his lovely scarecrows hung, slowly rotting and dripping and swaying; dancing their little deadly dances… dripping their spooky blood… nothing fake about them though… oh no. Early for Halloween, but who gives a fuck and it amused him and took him back to happier times. When he turned back to look at Spencer, Spencer was staring right back at him with wide open eyes. 'He cant see me.' Floyd said more in his own head than in words and as he said that, Spencer looked away again.

Spencer had figured out in his head the basic layout of this strange place and knew that if he walked to that window and looked out he'd see those darn scarecrows and that idea made his stomach hitch and twist. He thought for a few seconds that he might throw up all over the dining table and he also had a good idea that it would be something far grosser than vomit that would burst from between his lips. Bile and something wriggly and lumpy tried to crawl its way up into Spencer's mouth. He made a small gagging sound, wrapped his arms tightly around his chest and swallowed back whatever nasty thing it was. His fork dropped from his fingers and made a small _ding_ as it hit the floor. He didn't attempt to pick it up or even turn to look at it. Any sudden movement and he would expel whatever it was moving around inside of him.

'You look like you saw a ghost.' An amused voice spoke from down the table.

'Uh…' Was all Spencer was able to reply.

'And on the matter of ghosts…' Joel spoke, '… what's meant to be haunting this place? Anyone seen or felt anything?'

Someone shrugged. A teenaged girl with too much makeup and an invisible _number 1_ stamped on her forehead answered. 'I read about it. I looked this place up online. There's meant to be a grey woman who walks the corridors at night, and some spook out in the grounds. I don't think anything to be too worried about. There were also reports of noises, but nothing has been confirmed officially… you know?'

'No I don't know.' Joel snapped back at her. There seemed to be a funny wobbly fuzzy mark right between her eyes, almost like something which had been put there and then wiped away, or maybe not even quite that? Maybe more like that part of her face was made of smoke. Joel wanted to know what sort of creepy trick she was playing, but no one else commented so he kept his mouth shut about it. 'There was something in the bedroom.' He stated. 'I felt it. Clearly felt it.'

'Well that sort of thing happens when you're expecting to be spooked… you know?' Smoky head spoke again.

Spencer was looking from one to the other and then to the curtains and back to Joel and then to the girl who seemed to be called Angelica. Joel was about to say that he'd never been spooked into thinking he was having a hand job before when the door opened and a middle aged man appeared pushing a trolley laden with food before him. There was a group sigh of happiness as the strong smells wafted over towards them.

Large dishes of food were placed on the food warmers in the middle of the table. There were also big dishes of rice and a pile of grated cheese if they wished to add it. Spencer again felt his stomach do a strange lurch as he glared accusingly at the bowls of chilli placed there. They were told that this dish was especially ordered by someone, but they for the life of them didn't know who it was! Very strange. The man with the food trolley wished them _happy eating_ and left them to their food. Joel, who had lost his appetite when he felt something shove him on the stairs was suddenly overcome with such intense hunger that he thought he could have eaten the whole parade of dishes. He leaned over and added rice to his plate and then some of the rich meaty goodness. Joel _loved_ meaty goodness. He was planning on showing Spencer just how much he loved it later on. He smiled across the table at the man he said he loved and dug in.

'Oh…' A new voice spoke up. It belonged to the woman they'd seen smoking outside when they'd first arrived. 'We should say our thanks first; at least I feel we should do.' A nervous smile flittered across her face.

Spencer was about to help himself to a slice of bread which was there waiting but his hand stopped mid-air. 'I don't think… Well it's just that…' He trailed off and put his hands on his lap. Now all eyes were looking at him waiting for what it was he didn't think. 'Not everyone has the same belief system and I find it offensive to assume that we do.' He muttered more to himself than to the people in the room. Actually he muttered it more to the curtains than to anyone or anything. 'Don't let my thoughts stop you though, as I'm sure you wont be offended if Joel and I just carry on?'

The curtains fluttered slightly and Spencer's eyes were pulled back to look at them. He wasn't sure if he could sense something there or if he was just making sure that scarecrows stayed outside where they were meant to be and didn't come crawling on through that window which he was getting more and more worried about. He picked up his napkin which had been folded expertly into the shape of an animal, shook it out, trying to ignore the looks he was getting and wiped sweat from his brow. 'It's hot in here.' He said and picked up the bread again.

'Well I still think that some of us would like to say some sort of thanks before we eat.' The woman was staring at Spencer with hard grey eyes. 'Just because you don't choose to live a clean life and you choose to be a sinner doesn't make it so for the rest of us. Don't you agree?'

'Absolutely.' Spencer spoke after he swallowed the bread. 'My sins shouldn't concern you. Please do carry on.'

Joel gave Spencer a curious look and rubbed a foot on Spencer's leg. 'He's right.' Joel hadn't swallowed all he had in his mouth and his words were slightly muffled by rice and chilli. 'Mind your own business. You're just jealous that I've got that gorgeous man to sleep with and you don't!' Joel snorted a laugh full of bits of meat and rice across the table.

'Well I never!' Grey eyes exclaimed.

'And you never will!' More food sprayed over the table as Joel spoke.

Spencer looked at the food laying on the table where Joel had spat it. For a fleeting moment it looked as though the rice was wriggling. He looked up at Joel and then at the rice on the table again. 'Oh…' He sighed as something crawled down Joel's manly chin and that bile began to rise in this throat again. When someone is eating something nasty and they don't realise, is it better to tell them or let them get on with it. 'Joel?' Spencer stood and began to walk quickly from the room. Again all eyes were on him but not for long. Joel seemed to have noticed that the food on his plate was moving.

'What in the name of loving fuck!' Joel was on his feet with one hand over his mouth and another over his ear. 'Who the hell? What in the name of…'

He barfed big time. He seemed to explode and expel every meal he'd ever had out of his mouth and fire it across the table. Luckily for Spencer he'd already got up and moved away, but the sound of Joel puking meant that any hold Spencer had on his own need to puke was lost and he was bent over with hands pressing on his thighs throwing up onto the cheap rug he was standing on.

It went around like a Mexican Wave, but it was people throwing up and howling and crying. Joel seemed to have most of his hand stuffed down his own throat and was clawing at the inside of his mouth and spitting bits out around his fingers. It would have been a gross nightmare of a thing to have happened if you'd looked again and realised that it was just rice, and mostly it _was_ but not by any means all of it. The smell of the chilli was overpowered by the smell of stomach contents. On the side table were bottles of water. Spencer swayed and puked his way to the table and grabbed a bottle. He took a small sip of it and tasting that it was just water he drank down a larger amount. He picked up another and walked to Joel who had pushed his chair back against the wall and was making gagging noises.

'Drink some water and then can we just get the hell out of this place?'

Joel looked up at Spencer and gave him a half smile. 'Shit… That was crazy.'

'I'm sure it was just something to make us all freak out.' Spencer looked at the grey faces of the few people still sitting in the room and then back at Joel. 'It seems to have worked. Are you going to be OK? Drink some water, or rinse your mouth out and then we can go back to our room.' He was going to add that they could have showers to remove the stink, but decided that showers were not going to be on Joel's list of things he really would like to do.

There was a slight nod though. 'Fuck, Spence. I paid a lot of money for this weekend… I think I'm going to go home Sunday and never want to leave the house again.'

Spencer gave a small smile. 'Come on. Let's get back to our rooms. There's some sandwiches in the car if you want me to go get them.' What Spencer really meant was that Joel could get them if he wanted them. It was dark out now. Spencer didn't want to go out and see those swinging things in the trees.

'I'm not going to hide in my room!' Joel shouted and Spencer jumped back from him. 'I paid good money for this and I'm going to enjoy myself. Come while I get changed and then on with the show I say.' He wiped puke off his chin with his forearm and strode from the room. A man who might well have been the chap who brought the food in on the trolley was standing in the hallway looking a bit nervous, Joel shoved him out of the way and pulled Spencer towards the stairs.

Was that laughter coming from the dining room? Joel spun and looked back at the door which was swinging shut. He was sure someone had been laughing. No one laughs at him. Eating living maggoty food was not what he'd expected. 'I'm not going to be mocked.' He pushed Spencer up the stairs in front of him. That damned laughter though still was there and still ringing in his ears.

o-o-o

Spencer offered to stand at the bathroom door and keep watch. Joel seemed to think now that there was a secret door in the bathroom somewhere. He was happy to let Spencer watch. Of course he was and Spencer had no objection either. Spencer would admit readily that Joel had a fantastic body. He didn't even mind the abundance of tattoos over his skin. He was very much less sure of one which said _Spencer_ and was there for anyone to see on the side of his neck. It made Spencer feel uncomfortable, but at the same time it made his tummy flutter. No one had ever had his name tattooed on them before and probably for a very good reason. So for the next ten minutes Spencer stood leaning with one shoulder and one hip on the frame of the bathroom door and watched Joel get his body all soapy. And obviously Joel made a small show of it for his Spencer and then Joel made Spencer squeal like a maiden as he made a _big_ show of it for Spencer and came bolting out of the shower all hot and bubbly and ready for sticking his dick into Spencer.

'The bed!' Spencer yelped as Joel's hands worked over Spencer's shirt and popped the buttons open.

'The bed is good with me.'

'No, I mean it creaks.'

'Then hands on the wall and pants down. We don't have long.'

Spencer was kind of glad that it wasn't going to take long! But it seemed that the excitement of the day so far had made Joel needy and greedy… almost as needy and greedy as Spencer was feeling.

Floyd stood and watched and his blood would have boiled if he had any.

He watched the foreplay and the touching and licking… he watched that painted man touch Spencer in all of those special places which had been reserved for him only… unless it was a whoring night, but usually it was for him only. There was for now not a lot he could do, except stand and watch. Grubbing the food had been funny, but it had resulted in both Joel and Spencer being a bit horny.

_He never gets that enthusiastic for me_. Floyd thought. He was sure he was right. Spencer wouldn't have done that for him… And he certainly would have protested if Floyd had slipped his whole hand… 'Damn.' Floyd muttered. He muttered it very quietly though. And Spencer and Joel were making enough noise right now to wake up… well to wake up the scarecrows and so it was to them that Floyd drifted. As much as he hated Joel and as much as he needed and desired and maybe missed and loved, Spencer, he didn't want to see that sweaty skin and smell those lovely hot scents when he couldn't join in. He left the two rutting men and went and paid the woman in the next room a visit.

What's the damned fuss about! It's just a couple of fingers… Floyd was curious… and phantom fingers over a soft downy cunny don't mean sod all! It's nothing… and Sam had made him very curious about girly parts and so he gave her breasts a squeeze too and watched with a grin on his non-existent face as she ran out of her room with her silly little frilly skirt on and no top. There was a squeak and she came hurtling back in with arms wrapped over her teenaged tits.

'I know what I've got to do here.' Floyd told the nearest dangling thing hanging from the tree. It had a huge swollen orange face with triangle eyes and a zig-zag of a mouth. If you stood in front of it, not only would you hear the flies and other buzzing insects but you might just see looking out of those triangles a pair of what used to be blue eyes. You would also smell rotting vegetation and meat and if you looked through that scarecrow's mouth you would be able to see the lower jaw bone and teeth which once belonged to one of the missing guests. Floyd had torn the flesh off under the nose and he'd torn downwards from the bottom lip to give it a much more horrific look… but you'd only see it if you shone a light in there. A shame really. However Floyd didn't look. He stayed sitting on the ground and moaned to himself. 'Spencer really seems to like that jerk. At least I think so. He's not fighting the fucker off now is he? I'm going to kill that Joel. That tattoo on his neck is going to be ripped off… I think I might even fry it up in some goose fat.' He looked up the silent thing dangling there. 'This isn't the most wondrous of situations. I'd rather be able to be seen, you know what I mean? This mamby pamby fucking around is a pain. Not being able to drag Spencer away from that tank is a pain too. If Spencer could but see me…' He sat and looked up at the house now. 'But that's not permitted. I've got to get him to back away of his own accord and I don't think he's got the balls to do it. He knows I'm around. He knows and he still let that shitter pork him… let him have him like a damned animal and he fucking knew I could see, I think. I will get him away from that lover boy of his and then once I'm able I'm going to teach Spencer a lesson he's never going to fucking well forget, except knowing Spencer the way I do he'll likely forget it quicker than I can pick stuff out from between my teeth.' He now stood and faced the thing with the distant and very dead blue eyes. 'You know I only have until Sunday afternoon to get this done. Very restricted time. No time at all really and I guess all the time I'm standing here chattering to you I'll not get any further will I? Does he love that Joel bloke? What do _you_ reckon? I think he has feelings for the git. Not sure it's love. But don't they say the same about me? Is it love? Or is it just that I'm a greedy possessive shit.' He grabbed a bit of the clothing the scarecrow was wearing and made the thing swing wildly back and forth. 'And so into the breach dear friends. I'll love you and leave you. Enjoy your evening.' He let out a happy sigh. 'Mine's going to be an absolute scream. It'd knock your mismatched socks off.' He gave the dead thing a small salute and bowed his head slightly. 'Good eve.' And then he turned and walked back to the big not as old as it looked, house.

o-o-o

They gathered in the sitting room. They sat on couches and on large stuffed easy chairs. One young man sat on a stool next to the fire which was dull and dusty and plastic in appearance. Joel had found a place on the couch and Spencer was sitting on the floor in front of him. He had wanted to sit somewhere a bit more comfortable, but that's where he ended up.

A girl in her early twenties was nattering on about what happened earlier on, though she wasn't giving all the details. 'Something grabbed me! I swear it did. It wasn't my imagination. I felt fingers on my… on my skin and then they moved and… well squeezed me.'

Spencer raised an eyebrow and Joel's knees started to jiggle annoyingly. 'The information handed out, right from the beginning, claimed that the house was haunted.' Spencer reasoned. 'All of the literature says it.'

'Well I know! But it didn't say it was some perverted poltergeist! I thought it was going to be a shadowy grey thing on the stairs or something, but what happened was gross!'

'No one touched you before?' Joel snorted. Spencer wrapped an arm around his lower leg.

'I don't think that's the point Joel. It's not nice when something happens like that. People are led to believe that ghosts are more of a reflection of something which happened in the past. They're not actual things which are able to respond or think, it's like a replay of emotions which the surroundings absorb and then release at random times.'

Joel started to tap his foot. 'And you were moaning that you were scared of ghosts?'

'No.' Spencer snapped back. 'I said that I know that there are monsters under the bed and in the closet. That's quite a different thing altogether. I'm not afraid of the simple apparitions. They are nothing more than a reflection, as I said. But I do know that there is more than that around. I'm not saying here in this house…'

'What are you some kind of expert?' It was Angelica, the girl with the odd mark on her forehead only Joel could see.

Spencer gave a small shrug. 'I've had my fair share of odd things. I know that there is more out there than we can see. I know that our senses are numbed and useless when it comes to seeing those things. I've had experiences. Enough to make me wary and enough for me to believe that if Charmayne said she felt something…'

'Or something felt her!' Joel laughed…

'… if Charmayne felt something then I'm not going to doubt her. Why would someone lie about that?'

'You told me if was dodgy electrics.' Joel spoke to the top of Spencer's head.

'But that doesn't explain those things at dinner.' Spencer countered. 'It would just be a precaution to stay in pairs I would think. Who amongst us is staff and who is guest?'

There was silence for a few seconds. A click ticked away seconds on the wall and as the curtains wafted slightly in a sudden gust of wind which swept low across the floor and the door rattled making the door handle jingle slightly, the second hand on the clock began to slowly reverse and start ticking away the seconds anti-clockwise.

o-o-o

When the lights suddenly went out, Spencer knew that this was the beginning of the mystery they were going to have to work out. Someone screamed. A draft of air brushed past Spencer's face. Joel let out a howl of pain and tried to stand, but Spencer was still gripping a hold of his leg and he couldn't get up. A door slammed there was a low mewling cry from next to the window and the lights popped back on again. Charmayne was laying on the floor with a plastic knife strapped to her front. She was obviously _the victim_, but Angelica was sprawled on her back with her throat very obviously sliced deep. Blood was pooling around her, one foot was still twitching. Charmayne sat up and started to scream. Joel demanded to know who the fuck punched him on the nose and the bloke who had been on the stool was sitting blubbering into his hands and saying… 'Oh dear god… something groped me…'

Spencer slowly stood up and turned to look at Joel. He _knew_ that Joel hadn't done this. He'd been holding onto his leg the whole time. He knew that he himself hadn't done it. He looked around the room at the other people. Judging by the look on Charmaynes face it wasn't her… she had blanched almost totally white except for the high red spots on her cheekbones. Grey eyes was making small keening sounds.

'What the fuck! I was meant to die!' Charmayne spluttered. 'What's she playing at? She's not really dead is she? Oh my fuck. Oh my fuck. Oh fuck, fuck…'

'Shut up woman.' Joel wiped a smear of blood across his face. 'Spencer was like a cop. He can sort this.' His voice though loud and sort of commanding was almost lost over the sudden stampede to the door.

'Everyone sit down again. Sit where you were and the staff members need to let us know who is who.' Spencer said. But again words were lost as people howled to be let out of the room.

'Reggie unlock the fucking door!' Screamed Angelica as her sweaty panicked hands slipped over the door knob. 'The fucking door's locked! Who locked the damned door? Reggie! Where the fuck are you?'

Spencer crouched down next to the dead girl. He gently touched her wrist just to make sure that there was no pulse and then put his head carefully to her chest. He turned to look at Joel who looked like he was about to join the stampede. 'Get them to sit down Joel. Make them calm down.'

'Calm? There's a dead chick on the rug and you want people to calm down?'

'Unlock the fucking door!' More howls and hammering. 'Get out the window… someone open the damned window!'

The sudden rush from the door to the window nearly knocked Spencer over. He had to put his hands out onto the body in front of him to stop himself from toppling over.

'The window is locked! Fucking break it. Someone break the window.'

'Shut the fuck up!' Joel bellowed. 'Sit down and calm down.'

'But…' This was the guy who had been sitting on the stool. '… one of us murdered that girl! I don't want to be here with that person.'

'Sit! Sit and listen.' The small crowd of people slowly turned. 'Spencer was a Fed. He knows what he's doing. Just shut up and go back to where you were before this happened.'

'Please.' Spencer groaned. 'Please just sit back down again. We need to see where everyone was.' Slowly they moved from the window… everyone except for Charmayne who was sobbing and rubbing at her face. She still had the rubber knife in her hand. 'More than one thing happened. The lights were out for about fifteen seconds. Think about it. Sit back down and we will go through everything. Has anyone got a cell phone?'

Stool boy answered. 'There's no cell reception here, so it wouldn't work anyway. It's one of the reasons we choose this place because of that. We've had these weekends many times and nothing like this has every happened.'

'Well that's a start!' Joel smirked.

'In the fifteen seconds that the lights were out, someone slashed Angelica's throat, hit Joel on the nose, touched…' He waved a hand at stool boy, '… and the door was locked. One person couldn't have done all of those things.'

'Someone was here… someone left the room.' Grey eyes said.

'No, no one left. We are all still here. Unless you're suggesting that not only did they do all of those things in that time, but also came in the room and left again, locking the door behind them. Who else works here?'

'Just Reggie, who brought the food in. We prepare everything in advance and then when I'm _dead_ I go help Reggie.'

'So where is Reggie now?' Spencer asked.

The staff members all looked at each other and shrugged. 'But Reggie wouldn't have done that.' A tall man with hair greying at his temples said. 'Reggie just wouldn't have.'

Spencer shook his head. He knew full well who had done this… and his name most certainly wasn't _Reggie_.


	19. Chapter 19

19

There was a voice in Reggie's head and that voice was telling him that his life was over. He was going to die… and he was going to use the rope he had in his hand to complete the task with. He had already moved the dining table out of the way and left deep gouges in the wooden floor. He'd stood a chair under the chandelier ready and was now standing on that chair looping the rope around the chandelier ready to depart from this world. He paused just before the screaming started. Suddenly that voice demanding that he died slipped away and he was left with a faint ringing in his ears. He then carried on looping and tying the rope and hummed quietly to himself as the screaming started in the lounge.

'Are you ready Reggie?'

The voice was back again. Reggie slipped the noose over his neck.

'Don't worry Reggie. I'll move the chair for you.'

Had someone been watching it would have looked as though someone had snatched the chair away from Reggie's feet. They would have seen the chair as though in slow motion move back and then lay it self down as though an invisible person was there. They would have seen something else odd too… it was like a ruffling and gathering of the cloth of Reggie's pants. Like something had a hold of his legs and was pulling down. They would have seen Reggie's hands flapping at his side and they'd have noted that his bladder gave way. There was also that popping sound of the neck breaking even though the way the rope was placed around his neck it shouldn't have happened.

Hanging is a dreadful way to die, unless you have a good friend to put weight on your legs and make that neck pop. People who had similar mentalities to Flanders would go to public hangings and proclaim themselves as lovers or brothers or husbands or friends, just so that they could have the pleasure of popping the necks.

There was a story which Floyd had heard more than once, but he doubted that Reggie knew of it. A man who used many different names but quite often used the name Syggers Wyburg, or one or the other. Syggers was a mid height man in his late thirties who would attend every public hanging he could possibly get to. He'd sit and picnic there waiting, making sure he had a good seat. The best hangings were obviously the slow ones. The single ones… the one where the criminal had no family. Syggers liked the whores best of all. Most of them were whores who he had bedded and then told the law makers on… 'She took my money; she gave me the clap; she got me drunk and… she poisoned me… she mugged me…' it was a list Syggers Wyburg kept secure in his head. He would pick on women who had no family and no one to stand up for them and protest their innocence. Some of them were not much more than kids themselves. Street rats, the bottom of the pile. Any excuse for the watch to string the scum up! Any excuse… Well Syggers would watch and when the wriggling started he'd offer to be a _popper_, or he'd just step forwards and do the job anyway. People didn't usually protest. And Syggers loved dearly to feel someone dying as he wrapped his dirty arms around the mucky clothing of the twitching victim and pull down with all of his weight until that _lovely_ sound of death.

He made a mistake though. He picked on the wrong young man one day. He thought that the kid was alone, but when Syggers called the watch and said that the lad had attacked him, someone stepped out of the shadows and said that actually is was Syggers Wyburg who had set upon the lad curled up in the gutter. Syggers was the criminal.

He ran.

He ran for many days.

There was a small price on his head, and it was enough for wanted posters to be sent out by fast riders to the villages. It was nearly three months later when Syggers was using the name of Isgar Lewin, that his luck ran out. The village ostler… otherwise known as Ostler Trumble had seen the _wanted_ notice and unluckily for Syggers, Trumble was all for a good hanging…

Another bit of bad luck hit Syggers that day too. They hung him from the sign which stuck out a good few feet from the front of the tavern. The sign had a Swan painted on it and was known locally as _The Ducking_. There as also no one to pop his neck. It took Syggers Wyburg nearly twenty minutes to stop wriggling and twitching. He didn't only empty his bladder but his bowels too. His eyes bulged and his face went a horrible purple colour. His tongue lolled out of his mouth and he drooled as his feet did their little dance.

There was a reward on his head, so off it came (the next day) and was sent by a fast rider to The City, where it was unanimously declared that they had the wrong person and that wasn't Syggers Wyburg but probably who he actually claimed to be…. Isgar Lewin. This story though was probably just one of those urban legends, but he told it to Reggie anyway as the shouts and screams continued. They called for Reggie and hammered on the door and Floyd could hear that _bastard_ Joel trying to take control.

'Who the fuck does he think he is?' Flanders spoke to the corpse hanging from the chandelier. 'He acts like some fucking hard man but I saw how freaked out he got when I slid my ghostly fingers over his cock. I saw the look on his face when he saw what he was eating. He's all mouth. And though I'm never going to find out, I will ask Spencer, but I do suspect that that mouth isn't as good as mine.' Floyd prodded Reggie. 'You know what Reg? I think it's time to join the party next door. That little bit of popping made sort of have a new understanding of Syggers. Swing well; swing very well my dear man. If hung correctly and professionally a man can get a hard on at the point of death. Amazing don't you think? Not you though, no Reggie, not you.' Floyd moved himself as though by magic; and he was feeling fucking magical recently, through the wall and into the room next door.

o-o-o

'And we need to check for secret doors.' It was Joel ordering people around. Spencer was laying a throw which he'd taken from the back of the couch, over the body. Dear sweet darling lovely fuckable Spencer.

'Don't be an ass. If there were secret doors we would know about it and as Reggie is the only other person here it seems unlikely that a secret door was used.' Someone snapped back at him.

'There's the fact that we all agree that we heard a door slam.'

'And there as a breeze like the window had been opened.'

'And Joel got punched on the nose by something.'

'And something touched me…' Stool man added.

'So someone or more than one person in this room is involved and as the only people who know each other are the staff members…'

Spencer spoke now. 'Well that's not true because I know Joel and…Kensey…' He gestured at the woman with the grey eyes, '… knows Phil. Angelica was alone and Rich is alone. There are two missing people who never showed up and there's the staff…' Spencer lost track of what he was saying. 'I know it wasn't Joel. He didn't move from the couch.'

'I know it wasn't Spencer as he didn't let me move from the couch.'

Spencer gave a small smile. 'Not that it matters.' He walked to the door and rattled the handle. It was still locked. 'Can we try breaking a window?' Then he thought of the scarecrows and wished he'd not suggested that.

Joel grabbed Reid by an arm as he walked towards the window. 'What do you mean by saying it doesn't matter?' Joel hissed at Spencer.

'He's going to kill us all.' Spencer spoke back, but not in a way that the other people in the room wouldn't hear him.

'You assume it was a man. Angelica might have done that to herself.' Kensey suggested.

Spencer turned to her with the grey eyes and shook his head. 'She didn't and you know that. You know as well as I do that no woman did that to all of us in such a short space of time. You also know that no man could do that either. That leaves two options but you all know that is wrong too. Either there is more than one murderer here or at least two people in cohorts or it's Floyd and I know where I would place my money.'

The pain… the terrible crushing pain hit the side of Spencer's head and Joel's knuckles at exactly the same time. The strike was done with such force that the skin on Joel's knuckles split and Spencer was knocked sideways off his feet. He put a hand out to grab something but only found the curtain which just swung around and gave no support. Spencer's head then smacked on the window sill and with a groan and a muddle of arms and legs he was out cold on the floor. It didn't stop Joel from shouting at him. Spencer seemed to be able to hear whether he was awake or not. 'You fucking son of a bitch! I never want to hear that man's name again! You hear me? Do you?' The people standing watching with mouths agape thought that Joel had killed Spencer and it was probable if not very likely that the young man would never hear another word again. 'You're fucking insane!' Joel carried on. 'He's dead! You went to his grave! You put a damned rose on it! What the hell is wrong with you?'

Joel now swung on the watching people.

'Wow.' Charmayne licked her lips. 'You really hurt him.' There was a tremor of fear in her voice.

'He's lost his mind. He thinks that his dead boyfriend has come back or some such shit. Can I get help opening the window?'

'But you knocked him out!' Kensey began a slow step forwards.

'He needed it.' Joel snapped. 'He was going to start raging about shit and I don't have his medication here. It's in the room and the freaking door's locked.'

'Medication?' Someone asked.

Joel sighed. 'Window?'

'No Mr… you said that guy's on medication. What's he got wrong with him? Could he have done this?'

Joel thought that telling them all that Spencer had psychotic episodes might be amusing even if it wasn't totally true, so he did and the room went wild! Joel for a ghastly moment thought that they were going to lynch Spencer. They piled on in trying to get to him and what did Joel do? He turned his back and tried the lock on the window again. 'Fucking thing.' He then picked up a chair and threw it at the glass. The chair seemed to hit something before it actually made contact with the window. It felt oddly like it had been ripped from his hands… and Joel stood stupidly and watched the chair swing around and hit him in the face. Had someone been watching it might have looked as though the chair bounced off the glass. Joel flailed back, caught his foot on one of Spencer's shoes and crashed back with hands over his handsome face and blood seeping between them. 'My nose! My fucking nose!' Joel howled.

Floyd then moved to the people huddled around Spencer. 'He has the devil in his soul. We must pray for him, but tie his hands behind his back first.' Grey eyed Kensey said in a very dramatic fashion. `

A fleshy looking man with a bald spot on the back of his head spoke. 'The lord will save him and save his soul from eternal damnation.'

Floyd whispered in his ear. '_Too late. Much too late for that._'

The balding man went to turn, but this just facilitated Floyd's next move. The man with the bald place on the back of his head at least would never have to worry when he work up and saw more hair on his pillow. This man was never going to wake up again. Then Floyd backed off a bit and stood in the fireplace and said 'Diagon Alley.' A few times, but didn't go anywhere. A whispery grey smoke drifted over to Floyd and a voice spoke as though the owner had a mouth full of feathers.

'Why me demon?'

Floyd looked at what was left of the man with the balding spot. 'You and the woman with the grey eyes. You actually believe that shit. Not that I'm going to tell you that you're wrong or right, you have to decide that shit for yourself when you get there, but believers can do damage. Taking you out and removing Angelica was a sort of damage control for me. I hope you understand.'

'Why here?'

Floyd raised a non existent eyebrow. 'I'm here for Spencer of course. Now go and kneel at the foot of the god you wasted your life for and see if your eternal future is going to be all it's cracked up to be in that book you read.'

'I will fight you.' Baldy said in his feathery slowly disappearing voice.'

'No you wont. Go away. Stop bothering me.' Floyd put out a hand and blew over his palm. The whispy ghostly man fell apart and with a whistling sigh was gone.

They eventually lifted Spencer and put him on the couch, but they had taken the precaution to tie his hands behind his back. Joel sat on the floor whimpering around his broken nose and split lip. It wasn't until they'd calmed down again that they realised that they had another body laying on the floor with a neck twisted horribly around and then of course the screaming and raging started over again. This time putting the blame of Joel who was carefully wiggling loose teeth with his tongue.

'Wasn't me!' He spat blood and a tooth at them. 'The fucking chair attacked me.' How stupid that sounded he didn't realise until he'd spluttered the words.

'We must pray!' Kensey announced and got to her knees with her hands clutching at a small golden cross she had around her neck on a fine chain.

And the clock continued to tick backwards.

Spencer moaned and wriggled on the couch. Charmayne howled and battered her fists against the door and shouted out words which she hoped would protect her from whatever it was going on.

'A séance.' Someone suggested.

'Are you fucking crazy?' Joel asked, but they were ignoring him now. He was a friend of Spencer's. More than a friend. They didn't have to listen to him! He was as dirty and insane as the one they'd tied up.

'We should all hold hands and see if we can communicate with the creature in the room.'

'There's no fucking creature in the room!' Joel stood and planted his fists on his hips. 'There's nothing here but us.'

Kensey turned to him and glared at him through narrowed eyes. 'Why are you so sure? It couldn't be Spencer as he was tied up when Adam was killed. It might have been _you_ though.' She hissed at him.

'Oh this is the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard!'

Spencer stared into the fireplace. He was sure for just a second there that he saw something. Something shimmering. 'Can you untie me please.'

They didn't _want_ to, but they decided that it probably wasn't Spencer after all. They did ask him what he was on medication for though and Spencer told them that they were to help with depression. 'But they don't seem to work.'

'I can vouch for that.' Joel snarled at him.

Kensey didn't want to have anything to do with a séance and Spencer didn't think that there was much point in one… though he didn't let on that he'd seen the _demon_ standing in the fireplace. Spencer could also smell Floyd's cheroots. They pulled Adam the balding man with the broken neck, out of the way and the rest of them stood holding hands. Joel at first refused on the grounds that it was all bullshit, but then decided that if it was bullshit there was no harm in it and Kensey refused on religious grounds; she attempted to persuade Charmayne not to join in but the girl had turned from what ever god she'd been begging not five minutes ago to wanting to do this. Contacting a demon sounded like fun.

'Are you there demon?' Stool man asked

'Breaker breaker… one-nine.' Joel said.

'This isn't a joke!' stool.

'Well maybe you need to lighten up a bit.' Joel snapped back.

'There are five dead people.' Spencer muttered. The room went silent and all eyes went to him. Floyd stood behind Spencer and smirked a smirk until he remembered that he wasn't meant to contact Spencer.

'_Forget I said that. Forget it. It's only two…_' He hissed at Reid.

Spencer broke hands from Joel and Charmayne and rubbed at his eyes.

'Five?' Someone asked him.

'Sorry…' Spencer's eyes went huge. 'No… two… two people. I was quoting from… from something… something old.' The smell of Floyd was so strong now that Reid wanted to call out to him and beg him to come back. He knew he would. He knew… but he also knew that Floyd was going to be mad as hell at him and he wasn't going to stop his game. At least not yet.


	20. Chapter 20

20

Spencer's head was pounding like he'd been hit by a brick not so long ago. There was a lump coming up just above his left ear. Joel now had a tight grip on his hand which was warning him, without having to speak, to mind what he said. It was all so dreadfully wrong. Not just because two people lay dead in this room and not because something had whispered into his head that there were three more bodies somewhere, but because Spencer knew that it was Floyd in the room with them and there he was holding another man's hand.

There was also that knowledge that if Floyd was here then Joel was most likely groped by him in the shower… he had been standing there watching from somewhere whilst Joel did what he had done and seen that Spencer had enjoyed it. Panic which had been creeping around in his head since they'd arrived, or maybe even before they'd arrived was now becoming something he was finding hard to keep control of.

The room was in virtual silence. Kensey was praying and her words itched and burned at Spencer's brain. He wanted to shout at her and tell her to stop it. He wanted to tell her that her pointless words were hurting him… hurting his head and making his heart pound faster. He felt hot and sick as the room seemed to ooze in and out of focus.

'Please stop.' He turned to look at the woman on her knees. 'Please just stop that. It's not helping.'

Kensey didn't stop, but she glared at Spencer with suspicion and carried on in a slightly louder voice, asking for protection and asking for her gods and saints to come and remove the evil in the room.

'You are a non-believer.' She hissed at Spencer. 'You have a tainted dark heart. I can feel it.'

Spencer shook his head. 'You have no idea. I never said I didn't believe. I just asked you to be quiet. If we are going to try to communicate with something your protections are going to make things harder for us.'

The woman stood and in some kind of weird gesture pulled the cross from her neck and held it out towards Spencer. It was only a small thing but it still made Spencer wince slightly. 'It is in you!' She wailed. 'You are the demon! Begone fell demon!

Reid took a step back from the circle of people and as he did the chandelier above their heads began to swing back and forth; at first just enough to upset some of the dust and then at a far more alarming rate. 'It's not me!' Spencer shouted. 'You know it's not me! Stop causing people to panic. This is what happened at the witch trials. It's rubbish and you _know_ it's rubbish.'

'Then why do you back away from me?' Kensey snarled, her top lip pulling back showing her teeth like some sort of rabid dog.

'Because you alarm me.' Spencer spoke as calmly as he could, but people were staring at him now and the light was swinging back and forth. Something above them made a buzzing pop sound as one group of people backed in one direction and Joel, Spencer and Charmayne moved back in another… all eyes were wide and staring at the light fitting. Even when the lights went out and they were plunged into a screaming darkness, they still stared upwards.

As the glass light fitting crashed to the floor and spread shards of glass over the room there was more shouting and crying and strange gagging sounds coming from some people. Joel somehow pulled Spencer in front of him as a shield but Kensey's prayers didn't stop. 'I have holy water in my bag!' She howled. 'You cant touch me demon. You cant come near me. It will burn you like acid and reveal your whereabouts!'

'I'm cut!' Someone cried.

'Oh dear god what's going on?' A whimper from another person.

'Something's got me!' Another howl and a sob.

'Stay calm!' That was Spencer who was feeling anything _but_ calm as Joel held his shoulders and moved back pulling Spencer with him.

'This better not be you.' Joel hissed into Spencer's ear. 'This was meant to be fun. If I find out this was you…'

Spencer put a hand over one of Joel's which was pressing hard into his shoulder and tried to pull the fingers away. 'You know it's not me. You know who it is and that woman isn't helping.'

A gasping sob ripped through the air now. 'I think Marty is dead.'

'She's making things worse! Shut that woman up!' Again Spencer tried to get Joel to let go of him. 'We need to sit down and remain calm.'

'But someone is killing us! Oh my god Marty! Marty wake up!'

'I'm not dead.' A male voice spoke quietly from the corner.

'Then who the hell is this here all sticky and covered in blood!'

'Someone turn on the side lights… there were table lamps! Someone turn the goddamned lights on so we can see what the hell is going on!' Joel still had a tight grip on Spencer. '

There was a silent pause and then a click and a glow of light from a small side table. Spencer blinked and looked around the room quickly doing a head count. His eyes drifted to the couch and locked there. A scarecrow sat at the end, its pumpkin head lolling to the side and seeping juice. It was dressed in a checked shirt and jeans… boots were stuck onto the end of its _legs_ and it seemed to be wearing a pair of heavy leather gloves. Spencer let out a soft moan and finally pulled away from Joel.

'It's Simon. The glass killed Simon.' Someone whispered.

Spencer moved as though on jelly legs towards another lamp and quickly switched it on, but his eyes were locked on the fireplace. He was sure there was something there. 'This has to stop.' Spencer muttered. 'This has to stop now. I don't know why you're doing this…' Reid looked over at Joel who was looking back at Spencer as though Reid had gone insane and then he turned back to look at the fireplace. 'Stop it Floyd.'

'And we are back to this Floyd person again.' Kensey spat at Spencer. 'You know what's going on but you stand there looking all like butter wouldn't melt in your damned mouth! This is your doing and I don't know why no one else can see that!'

Joel broke in now. 'It's not Spencer. He's not doing this, but if he mentions Floyd again I'm going to be the one doing some killing. I looked after you. I sheltered you and protected you.' He pulled on Spencer's arm to get him to turn and face him. 'Your precious Floyd killed himself. He jumped from a high building and ended up a splat on the blacktop. He's gone! You have to accept it. When you die you stay fucking dead! You don't come back and terrorise people! I've spent a year with you and your damned grief and I've told you so many times that I love you, but you rattle on about some dead guy who killed himself because you dumped him! You dumped _him_! That's why he's dead! So shut the fuck up about it and get real.'

Spencer pulled back again from Joel. 'You know nothing! You just don't understand. You'd never understand!'

'I understand that he was a filthy pervert! I understand that he was seeing that kid behind your back and screwing his arse, and that kid was a long way from being legal age. He was a vile creature who used you and played you. Get over it! He was a diseased ridden paedophile!'

Reid now turned to Joel and planted his fist in Joel's mouth, loosening a few more of his already wobbly teeth. 'You don't understand! He loved me! He was mine!'

Joel's hand went to his mouth as someone said 'Woah.' And someone else laughed nervously.

'You shouldn't have done that.' Joel hissed at Spencer.

'Why? What are you going to do? Hit me again? Black my other eye? Put a lump on the side of my head to match the one I have already? Go ahead. Do it. Let the people here see what you're really like. You were just someone I could get some comfort from when I was feeling like life wasn't worth living. You were there quicker than I could draw a breath, moving in on me and my life.'

'You…'

'Shut up! Listen for once. Just listen to me. I don't love you. I never have and I never will love you.'

'You…' Joel tried again.

'Why wont you listen to me? Why wont you just for once listen? When we get home I want you to move your things out of my house and be gone. I don't want you near me.'

Joel stepped up close enough to Spencer so that the toes of his boots were pressing down on Spencer's feet. Joel's fit tidy stomach pressed against Spencer's. Joel spoke and Spencer could still smell that faint waft of maggoty vomit on his breath. 'You let me fuck you.' He snarled. 'You never resisted me once! You never said…'

'Oh p-lease!' Kensey cried out. 'We don't want to hear this! We don't want to me muddied by your filth. Take it somewhere else.'

'Oh…' Charmayne whispered. 'I was rather enjoying the visuals I was getting.' She laughed a high pitched nervous squawk.

Spencer placed a hand on Joel's chest. 'Enough. Enough of this. I'm not going to discuss this further. Kensey is right. This isn't the time to talk about it, but I do need to say that Floyd isn't dead. At least not in the sense you imagine.'

Joel slapped Spencer's hand away. 'You're fucking mental! I've been working my ass off to support you in that house…'

'Not now Joel. Please. Respect the dead here. Just keep this for another time, but don't bad mouth Floyd again. You didn't know him…'

'What do you mean _I didn't know him_? He blew me regularly. He liked my big dick in his mouth!'

Spencer turned and looked at the scarecrow. 'Who put that there?' He asked the room. 'If we cant get out the door and the window is secured, then where did it come from?' He needed a change of subject now quickly. Maybe Floyd had done that once with Joel; it wouldn't surprise him if he had, but more than once? Unlikely. Very unlikely. Had Spencer not had first hand experience of the delights of Joel and his oral sex, then Spencer might have thought Floyd would have gone back again, but for what Joel offered? No. Spencer was in absolutely no doubt over that. Joel lacked imagination. He lacked… Well the lack the skills of a well practiced whore.

Charmayne put a hand on Spencer's shoulder. 'What do you know of the scarecrow things? I saw them when I drove up here. They were hanging from the trees outside, but there're no crops here for them to scare the birds from. What use are they?'

He stepped back from Joel who looked like he was going to burst with frustration and rage and turned to Charmayne. 'They are set there to remind us of something.'

'Of what?' This was stool man. 'If it's sexual I'm not really interested, but anything else and I'm willing to listen.'

Spencer put his fists to his temples. 'If I knew the answer to that I'd never have entered this house.' He hissed at the six remaining people.

'He's talking crap.' Joel let them know. 'He's unbalanced and scared and now he's talking shit.'

'Yes I'm scared! Any normal person would be.'

'But you're not normal are you?' Kensey told Spencer. 'That's obvious. I said I can feel the darkness inside of you and if I didn't know better I'd say you weren't here. You're not right. You're fuzzy around the edges.'

Joel sighed and dropped to the couch. He put an arm around the rotting scarecrow and looked at the pale faces in the room. 'Fuzzy around the edges.' He repeated what had been said. 'Other than myself, is there a sane person in this room?'

Floyd stood back and watched the fun. The scarecrow didn't have any human remains in it. It was one of the _clean_ ones. He thought a head rolling out of the rotting pumpkin would have taken things a little bit too far. At least for now. He would reserve that lovely treat for when the few remaining victims went running screaming into the garden… That was obviously if he ever let them out.

He got a small tingle of delight hearing Spencer talk to Joel the way he had. He got just as much happiness hearing that bag of a cunt Kensey being talked to in the way Spencer had. Floyd knew Spencer had some back bone. He wondered when he was going to start using it again. He would have said, if he'd been asked, that he was feeling happily smug that things were going his way. The problem he had was the bible bashing motherfucker who he would dearly have liked to have killed but couldn't get close enough. He'd have to get someone else to do it. He was also desperate for a smoke and sitting on the plastic log in the huge chimney seemed like the best place. Firstly thought he rattled the doors and swept the curtains around in a breeze… he then put his hands down the front of Marty's pants and gave him a loving stroke.

There was a yelp as the door rattled, a cry of alarm as the curtains waved around madly and then Marty howled and ran in circles with his hands down the front of his smart trousers. Joel laughed… a thing crawled out of the pumpkins eye and made its way over towards his ear.

'I actually think that Spencer is right.' Charmayne said. 'And I don't think that we have to have a stupid séance to talk to the demon if he is obviously already here. What's the point? And Kensey, your muttering doesn't seem to have changed anything so why don't you just stop? Marty what's wrong with your… your pants, and Joel you're the biggest darn bully I've ever met. You're meant to be Spencer's boyfriend, but the man is terrified of you. The best thing he could ever do would be to kick you out and find someone else who would understand him. The rest of you may as well not exist. You're all just faffing around from one end of the room to the other and people are dead! Some demon, wherever you are and whoever you why don't you tell us what this is all about? Tell us what you want from us? Are you just a malevolent entity, or are you really Spencer's long lost love come back to seek vengeance on those you see as…'

She didn't finish. Spencer took her hand and shook his head. 'Don't. Don't rile him and don't worry about this… this mess, because nothing is real. You will wake up later and you'll realise that this is just a nightmare. It's not real. The clock…' Spencer indicated the clock which was still ticking backwards, with a wave of his hand, 'You see? It's not real.' He then turned back to look at the fireplace. 'Floyd, I know you're there. I know what you're doing. You're sitting there watching and smoking and enjoying every minute. Please, it's time to stop. You must let these people get back to their lives and punish me. These people haven't done anything to hurt you. It was my fault. I went looking for someone when you broke my heart. It was me. It's not Joel's fault. It's not anyone's fault but my own.'

'Told you he was insane.' Joel barked from the couch. 'He thinks dead people come back and haunt you. He's fucking crazy. He's also very pretty, but the crazy side sort of outweighs that.'

Charmayne turned to look at Joel. 'Maybe he needs tender hands on him and not ones which hit out when he says something you don't like. Maybe he needs love and not abuse. Maybe it's _you_ who sent him crazy. Did you know that you can kill someone by constantly smacking them around the head? You are sick. A grown man like you should know better.'

Joel stood, pushing the scarecrow away from him. He rubbed at his bare arm where pumpkin juice had dripped onto him. 'You need to mind what you say young lady.'

'What you gonna do? Hit me? You hit women too? How big and brave that is! No one is perfect and I'd not say that I am either, but you need to stop pushing people around and thinking you're all that, just because you have some rather ugly tattoos on you. I'm not scared of you Mister.'

'Spencer.' Joel spoke with a little wobble to his voice. 'Come here… I'm going to break that fucking window and get out of this place.'

Reid shook his head. 'I'm not going with you Joel. It's over. I'm going to go with Floyd.'

'Floyd is dead!' Joel raged. 'The man is dead! They identified him! They buried him! He's got a fucking grave! What the hell are you on about? You cant go with a corpse.' Spencer said nothing but glared at the big man who he'd had sex with not so long ago, though it felt now like it had happened in another lifetime. 'What? What you going to do Spence? Kill yourself? Is that you grand plan?' Joel spat his words at Spencer knowing in his heart that that was exactly what Spencer meant.

'There's only one person I would do that for and that person isn't you.'

'Shit on a stick! This was my anniversary gift to you! You little punk! You ungrateful little shit! You said you loved me!'

'I lied.' Spencer muttered. 'That's irrelevant.' He turned once again to the fireplace. 'Floyd, please release these people. I'll go with you and not out of a sense of duty and not to save lives, but because I love you and I want to be with you… wherever you are. I want to be with you and I want to be with Sam.'

'Fucking child molesting pervert!' Joel shouted as he sat back on the couch again.

'Who? Me?' Spencer snapped back at him. Joel snorted a yes back at him.

And at that moment Kensey threw a small phial of water in Spencer's face. The effect was alarming…

At least for Kensey it was. Spencer just stood and stared at her.

'Are you burning?' She shouted. 'You perverted monster!'

Spencer wiped the water off his face with his fingers and flicked some to the floor. It was Charmayne who spoke. 'I guess he's either not what you thought he was, or you were diddled when you got that water. Now leave him alone.'

Floyd had for a while considered killing the bitch Charmayne. She was a mouthy bit of work, but now she seemed to be sticking up for Spencer and chosen the correct team to play on, he changed his mind. He was also not going to hurt Marty. The man had a lot to offer. He'd corrupt him maybe. In another time and place, he'd locate Marty and fuck him hard. Marty seemed like the type of person you just couldn't keep your hands off. There was now the Sam situation though. Spencer had done the correct thing there too. He'd said he would come back to him and he'd said that he wanted Sam there with them. Whether that was just to wind Joel up or not, Floyd wasn't sure. His sense of smell was having a bleak time of it which was a bitch of a thing to have go hinky on you. Spencer had the most wondrous smell ever… (maybe after Sam)… Floyd now slipped back into the shadows, away from the fireplace and was delighted that Spencer's eyes seemed to follow him. What he needed to do though was sort out the Sam stuff too. He could leave this lot alone for a while, he was sure of it. He just wished that he could contact Spencer and tell him that he was coming back again and that when he did everything was going to be wonderful… The very last thing he wanted Spencer to think was that he was abandoning him again. He decided to leave a message via Charmayne. A quick whisper in her ear did the trick.

'What in the name of…' She slapped her hand to her ear and swung around to see who that had been, though she already had a good idea. 'Spencer… a message for you "Tell Spencer I need to go and sort out Sam and then I'll be back."'

'Well fucking wonderful!' Joel bellowed.

Spencer went very pale and sat on the stool Marty had been sitting on earlier. 'It's fine. Nothing is real. Sam will sort it out and none of this would have happened. You'll see. Sam's wonderful with clocks. He can twist time and fix everything.' Spencer then put his head in his hands and let out a long sobbing breath.


	21. Chapter 21

21

Floyd drifted back to talk to _Them_ feeling fairly but not overly confident that things were going as they should be. He'd shown Joel's true colours and they were murky and dark. Floyd was aware that very occasionally and usually in self defence that he'd hit Spencer, but never to the degree Joel seemed to be doing. Spencer would end up dead.

Fine! Joel hadn't tied Spencer to the bed yet or nailed his hands to a table but it was still early days. Early days or not, Floyd didn't like the way Joel was treating something as fine as Spencer. He obviously didn't appreciate him. It was just a pretty thing to have on his arm.

So he went to one knee, did his small salute and then kept his eyes down. Not that he wanted to do this. It made his guts ache to do it, but he needed his boys back. For Spencer it had been a year, but for Floyd it had been so much longer. He also wanted his Sam back again. He had no real personal problems with Jibb but Jibb didn't really tick all the boxes… and Floyd still hadn't worked out how Jibb managed to have a shit when he didn't have an arsehole… and Floyd had searched for one. Oh yes.

'I'm here to report back on the current situation.' Floyd told the many voices when asked what the fuck he was doing back.

'We know the current situation. We are watching it. You don't need to report back.'

'Spencer has declared his wants. He has said it is me he needs to be with.'

'That little slut would say _anything_ for you not to hurt him.' The voices had a smell. He could smell much better here than when he was a collection of energy.

Floyd stayed on his knee, kept his head down, and licked at his lips in annoyance. 'It's obvious he would prefer to be with me. He has declared his want for Sam too. Therefore I am putting in another official request to have The Sam returned to me as my dog.' There followed a very long silence. It went on long enough for Floyd to start rubbing at his neck which had begun to ache and start wriggling his leg which felt like it had razor blades digging into every nerve ending. The only good thing about being stuck here and daring not to move was the matter that the pain in his leg stopped at his foot; the foot was totally numb… even the uncomfortable tingling had gone now. 'Are you still there?' Floyd finally asked after what felt like hours of waiting.

'We are deliberating. You need to shut you mouth and wait.'

Deliberating. That was either marvellous and wonderful, or they were planning whether to put his head on a spike or in a jar.

'I wonder if it would be reasonable to allow me to stand for a while.' Floyd asked.

'It wouldn't be at all reasonable. Stay still, stay down, and keep your yap quiet before I send someone to rip your tongue from your mouth. The more you interrupt the longer this will take.'

Floyd opened his mouth to say something else and then closed it again. He hated these fucks. He hated them so damned much that it made his eyes water. It made him think of Sam's wish to be a real person and have a real life and Floyd wondered if it had ever occurred to the stupid dog that Floyd himself was nothing more than a playing piece on some demon's gaming board. He was snapped from place to place, time to time… pulled and pushed along with the threats that they'd remove what he wanted if he didn't play their game… a game with rules which changed constantly or the playing pieces were thrown around the board and reset with no thought of how that screwed with everyone. Creatures like Floyd and Taki… where nothing… as nothing as people like back street scum meant nothing to Floyd. And so he waited for a bit longer.

Sam was curled up on the damp floor. He was covered in a layer of slime which initially he'd been removing after each cycle but now didn't bother. It actually seemed to protect his skin in a way. He couldn't see… the chemicals had done something to his eyes… or it was so dark now that there was nothing to see. He hoped it was the latter. His skin under the grey slime was a very pink colour. His skin was cracked at the folds of his elbows and between his fingers and toes, under his arms… he'd not even looked at his groin for a while. He couldn't touch it that was for sure. It felt like his whole area down there was one big blister. He couldn't stand because of the sores on his feet, his mouth was swollen, his eyes didn't have tears to wash the mess away and his nose was clogged. So he lay and waited to be gobbled up again and the last couple of times he'd sort of hoped that something with big teeth and the ability to actually chew would turn up and take a bite.

'Dead or alive I's to take thee back.' A voice suddenly spoke in Sam's ear. 'I don't wants to ya see? I don't wanna lose my job, so I says you're a deadun and he can make me you.'

Sam looked over to where the voice was coming from and reached out to feel who it was. Something leathery moved under his hands for a second before moving back out of the way.

'I'm not quite dead. Who sent you?'

'Well not _him_. Werent him. He's holding no wants for you. _They_ sent messenger to me and here I am telling you that _he_ says he wants you back. Don't believe him. 'Tis a trick. He's a tricksty liar and he'd shit on you before making you happy.'

'Floyd?' Sam sat up.

'I's not the master, fool. Stupid slime covered blob fodder is you.'

Sam shook his head slightly and felt his hair sling side to side sending off cast off bits of ooze. 'No… Floyd wants me back? Where is he?'

'They says it's deliberations. Thems having a long old think of what's happening to me and you and The Spencer thing. You need to comes with me. I'll carry. You have nasty feet.'

'Who are you?'

'I's Jibb. I am Floyd's dog. You're nothing. You know? Yous just blob fodder now. Even I's not that no more. And I's gonna kill you and eat you for my supper.'

Sam winced and got to his knees. Jibb was right though on the matter that Sam wouldn't be able to walk. 'So you've come to take me back to Floyd and then you think you're going to kill me and eat me? Come on then… Carry me to my master.'

'Me and Floyd we's gonna eat yas. Enjoy ya last days Booboo.'

Jibb obediently carried The Sam back to Floyd's large fancy tent. He couldn't see where he was being taken which alarmed him even more because the really did think (hope) that the darkness had been a simple lack of light, but Jibb told him that there was a fire burning, and Sam could smell wet smoky fire and a faint undertone of tar, as though something was melting or burning on the fire. Jibb dropped Sam onto some cushions and then began the unenviable task of licking Sam clean. Jibb muttered obscene words at Sam and told him what a filthy thing he was, but Sam said nothing. His face was sore as hell… which seemed appropriate really considering where he was and he yelped out a couple of times when Jibb's rough tongue slid over Sam's cracked skin. He didn't actually enjoy having his colon cleansed via Jibb's tongue and he found no pleasure in the gentle massaging strokes he gave Sam in other placed.

'Poor fucked up dog.' Jobb muttered. 'Yous blind and no good. My master will toss you back where I just dragged you from.'

'Screw you mother fucker.' Sam managed to say around his sore tongue. 'And stop doing that on my dick.'

'No one else's gonna want to lick your dick… blind cracked ugly fucker that you are. No one. Only me. If Floyd don't want yas I'ma gonna ask for you to tongue and be mine. We'll be buddies huh?'

'Go lick the third rail arsehole.'

'What's third rail creepy slut boy?'

'Something you need to go find out about. Leave me alone you shit. Get your tongue off me!'

'Blind dog has no need to be cross. Just making you taste nice for the master. And here he comes. Here he does definitely come and he's got on a grumpy face. I'm going. I'll see you. You wont be seeing me though blind dog… no good to not one.'

Floyd flopped down on a cushion next to Sam and let out a long deep sigh. He could see the mess Sam was in and it was going to take time for him to get back his good looks. His skin was red and raw and bleeding in places and his eyes had a creepy foggy look about them. He didn't talk to Sam. Sometimes things are best left unsaid. He lit a smoke and passed one over to Sam who lay there not knowing what to do… not knowing if Floyd was getting ready to pull his head off and suck his brains out of his ears or if he was about to stick something nice in his mouth or up his back passage.

'Take it before it burns away.' Floyd tapped the back of one of Sam's hands. 'It's a smoke. Don't waste it. Sort of has painkilling properties which I must tell you are much needed by the both of us.'

'Who was that creepy thing who licked me clean?' Sam managed to get the smoke between his lips and he took in a long deep breath of fumes.

'Jibb? He was just helping out, delivering messages and stuff. Housekeeping. Nothing important. He'll move onto someone else now I've got you back.'

'I'm not running as your messenger. I'm not a fucking messenger. Shit this stuff is good… Floyd? I think I'm blind.'

Floyd nodded and showed Sam his middle finger. It got no response. 'Well I guess we can fix that. Don't go worrying about it too much for now. I've been given you back at least for now, so that's what we will concentrate on. If that's fine with you?'

'And Taki?'

'Took his head, sweet boy. Took his head cos he took your life.' Which wasn't totally true but it put a small smile on Sam's face.

'Now you recover and let Jibb do the work. Give him straight orders or he'll twist them and do something else. If you want to smoke, you need to tell him that it's a cigarette or cheroot you're wanting, or he's apt to set light to you. Believe me… I know. I have to get back now. There's work to do… mission to succeed in… You can relax here though. It's safe.'

Sam put a hand out and grabbed at Floyd's clothing. He didn't want him to go again already. They'd only just been reunited and he wanted time to snuggle up with him and feel his calloused hands on him… and smell that rich dirty smell. 'Cant you just stay a while?'

Floyd sighed and moved Sam's hand out of the way. 'Hear me… hear me well Sam. I need you like I need my own life. Things are going to be different and I'll prove that to you by letting you reset the clocks and letting you decide where we go, but Spencer will be with us. You need to let things go… remember that. Just try to love him the way I love him. Pull him in. Talk sweet words. Forgive him. It will be reciprocated. He will love you in return, but Spencer for all of his supposed purity, is as shallow and needy as the rest of us. Shit on him, and he'll retaliate. Now I have to forgive him too. It's not going to be easy. It's going to be helluva painful… but hopefully it's going to work out. We need to be the three of us…'

'The three musketeers. All for one and one for all.'

'Indeed. Only I will be in charge and you two will be my hunting dogs.'

'I really wanted to be more than that. I wanted…'

'Cant have it. You are you… with no tits I see…'

'Yeah… they were fun for a while, but they got in the way and hurt if you laid on them for too long… and it was almost impossible to suck them myself. So really no point in having them. With them went my cunny. I'm back to being just a boy again.'

'Just a dog. Get it right. I'll order you a nice bath with rose oils. Will be good for your skin. Looks like you have some sort of acid burns or maybe… maybe it's radiation? Whatever, Jibb will sort it for you.'

'And when we go to where I choose do I have to drag Jibb too?'

Floyd gently stroked Sam's hair. 'No sweety… no. Jibb will go find someone else to serve.'

Sam nodded. 'OK… go get Spencer then… but I need my eyes fixed.'

Floyd got up without answering or responding and left the tent. He stroked a hand over Jibb's head as he left. 'Hurt him and I will skin you alive and remove every tooth in that pig ugly skull.'

'I hears you master.'

o-o-o

Spencer sat on the stool and Joel sat on the couch. Kensey had finally shut up with her prayers when she saw that the _holy water_ had no effect on Spencer. There was a definite change in the atmosphere of the room. Spencer sniffled slightly and looked around trying to search out Floyd, but Charmayne said he'd gone and Spencer believed her. That oppressive feeling had gone.

'Well, shall we try to break the window?' This was Marty's idea.

'What for? Where will we go? You have car keys on you? Anyone? And besides isn't there something out there?' Spencer asked.

'And I don't think we'll be able to break the glass anyway. Look what happened when I tried to lob a chair through it.' Joel pointed to his own face.

'But the thing has gone now.' Marty reasoned. 'If it was the thing that stopped you before, then maybe we can try again. I just feel we should be doing something other than sitting here with dead people. It's not right. And I think the cops will think it's not right too.'

Spencer looked over at Marty and shook his head. He then wiped at his leaking eyes with his fingertips. 'Marty, you're forgetting that none of this is real. It's a dream, a nightmare. It will go away… you will wake up somewhere else and tell your friends of some weird dream you had. That's all there will be. Maybe a few white hairs will grow through, but nothing else.'

Joel stood. He wiped his hand over his slightly sore face and looked at Spencer. 'You are fucking off your rocker, boy. This isn't a dream! This is real! Look… look around you! There are dead people here! Real dead people. I've got blood on my face! Marty got cut by glass on his arm! It's fucking real!'

Spencer looked at Joel and then at Marty. 'No… it's not. It's a dream. A very vivid dream probably brought on my carbon monoxide or too much drink, or maybe even drugs. It's a bad trip. That's what this is. I know that maybe it sounds crazy…'

'Too fucking right it does.'

'…But when you sleep and open your eyes again you'll realise. Angelica is probably already awake somewhere else… if she even existed in the first place.'

'Then tell me,' Marty stood and walked towards the window, 'what will happen if we break this? You seem to know what's going to happen. And where is Reggie?'

Spencer got up and followed Marty to the window. Breaking out of the room wouldn't be possible. Spencer knew that. Floyd had them confined in here for a reason and if they did break out, there were the scarecrows. He turned and looked at the one which was slumped over on the couch. That one hadn't hurt them. Actually no one had paid it much heed at all so maybe they were just there to let him know that Floyd was around. He watched though as Marty picked up a large candle stick. 'I don't think that window will break, I don't think Reggie is here anymore, if he ever was.'

'I'm going to smack you with this thing if you don't stop your stupid dream talk. Of course Reggie was here! He cooked dinner for us.'

'He cooked maggots for us.' Joel reminded them. 'So he best not show his face again cos I'm gonna break some bones of his for that.'

Marty did try to break the window. He smacked it with the candle stick as hard as he could. He held it over his shoulder and swung. It made an odd _boing_ sound and bounced off. 'Safety glass.' Marty pronounced. 'I'll try again.' And he did. He smacked at the glass probably nearly twenty times and each time he shouted a yelp or curse as the thing just bounced off it again. 'Well…' He now walked to the door. 'I'll smash the damned door in then.'

Kelsey joined his attempt to kill the door and didn't even manage to get a chip in the paintwork. 'This is the work of the devil!' She cried and then turned to look at Spencer. 'If this is a dream, why am I dreaming of you? I don't know you!'

'You're not.' Spencer moved back to the stool. He pushed some wayward hair off his face. 'This is my nightmare, not yours. You don't exist. You're just a phantom in my head.'

'Good grief.' Marty threw the candlestick to the floor. 'So you said we are all dreaming, but now it's just you? So does your loving boyfriend, Joel exist? Or is he your imagination too?'

Spencer looked over at Joel and then looked down at his own hands. He couldn't deny that Joel was real. The trip out here was real. The arguments and fights had at least felt real. Joel's personality hadn't changed _too_ much; had it? Had Joel always been like this and Spencer had just let it drift because it was easier? He thought maybe that was so. 'I don't know. I don't know any more. I know Joel, but I don't know the rest of you. I don't know why you're in my dream.'

Joel walked over to Spencer and then knelt on the floor in front of him. He took Spencer's hands in his and gripped them tightly. 'Spence, I think what's happening is you're having some kind of breakdown or an episode of something… it's real. All of this is real. Floyd wasn't here. I don't know what was, but Floyd cant have been here. When we get out of here, and we _will_ get out of here, I'm taking you to a doctor and getting you checked out. I know how you feel about hospitals and I'd not ask you to be locked away, but honestly buddy, you've completely lost your mind. You're saying one thing one minute and another the next, and yeah, I've smacked you a few times, but I've been traumatised too. We all have. There is no mystery here. No fucking demon and Floyd was never here. It's just us and one of us has been fucking with our heads and killing people. There's got to be a secret door… probably behind the fireplace or some such thing and maybe it was Reggie all along. He'd had this place checked out. He worked here. He would know how to get in and out of somewhere. Think about it. Think about what I've said. You're not stupid. You're actually the most intelligent person I've ever met, so stop with the fantasy and think… if this is real and if there is no demon… how could this shit have happened?'

Spencer looked down at the hands grasping his and wanted to pull away from them, but he just sat and looked at them. Joel might have been correct. Spencer swallowed and looked into the fireplace which was devoid of anything apart from the plastic logs. 'OK… I'm going to have to assume that someone outside of this room has been playing games with someone inside the room. Reggie outside and… I don't know who else. It's not Joel and it's not me. I know those two facts. Maybe all of those things which were done could have been had there been someone else in the room who could escape un-noticed. I suppose someone should check the fireplace? I'm not going to do it because if I don't find something which someone else does later then you'll accuse me of hiding something. I suggest that either Kensey, Charmayne or Joel have a look or maybe two people together. I don't know what else to suggest. The chandelier could have been interfered with from above. The lighting obviously is messed with via the fuse box. Why is there no cell reception here? Does anyone know?'

Kensey stood and nodded. 'First sensible thing you've said all day. I'll check the fireplace with Charmayne. As for the cell reception it's because of the hills. This place is built in a small valley. It's not much and hardly noticeable, but enough for phones not to work. It's just a small area too. Go a mile down the road and everything is fine.'

'And how well do you know Reggie?'

'Reggie is a bit odd but not violent in any way. I've never seen him lose his temper. And that food! Well I don't think Reggie would have done that to the food either.' Charmayne spoke as she and Kensey pulled the plastic logs out of the fireplace and on hands and knees began a close inspection of the brickwork at the rear of the fireplace.

'The clock is still going backwards.' Spencer said over the top of Joel's head. Joel still had a tight hold of Spencer. 'Is that something to spook the guests? Does that usually happen?' There was a muffled _no_ from Charmayne. 'Then maybe someone could check the clock out? I'm guessing it's not run on batteries. What about wrist watches? Are they doing anything odd?'

People looked down at watches and then up at Spencer. 'Well mines ticking like it normally would. It's nearly two hours ahead of the one on the wall.'

'Mine has stopped.' Kensey's voice echoed from the fireplace.

'Shit.' Marty walked over to Spencer and held out his wrist for him to see. It was an old watch. Not a battery operated one and it was ticking happily backwards. It said the same time as the clock on the wall. 'What does it mean?'

Spencer shrugged. 'I don't know, Marty.' Though he did. He knew very well what it meant… or at least that it wasn't happening for no reason. 'A while ago I knew…' But then he stopped and looked at Joel. 'Joel, please let go of my hands. I'm not going anywhere.'

'We've had a good year Spencer. I want another to follow.' There didn't seem to be a drop of sincerity in his voice.

Spencer looked away from Joel and over to the two people still scrabbling in the fireplace. 'You brought whores home into my bed.'

'You liked that!'

'I had no choice! And now I have to explain my actions to Floyd and you're going to have to explain them to him.'

Joel dropped his hold on Spencer and stood up. 'I don't _ever_ want to hear that name again!' The pounding he gave Spencer was maybe not the worst Spencer had taken, but it was bad enough. It started with a fist to his face, knocking him back off the stool. Joel then leapt forwards and sitting astride Spencer began to smack his fists into anything he could reach. A few Spencer managed to block, but a lot still got through. Someone tried to haul Joel off and got an elbow in the face. Someone was shouting for Joel to stop and was being ignored. 'You will learn not to say that damned name!' Joel spat down at Spencer who was now just flailing at Joel and trying to slap him away. Joel was bigger than Floyd, but Floyd's punches were still a lot harder than Joel's, whether because deep down Joel didn't intend to kill Spencer and Floyd usually didn't care if he did, Spencer didn't know… Charmayne could see blood though and that was enough for her. She grabbed the candlestick that Marty had dropped and using all of her strength smacked Joel on the back of the head whilst screaming at him…

'You're killing him! Stop it!'


	22. Chapter 22

22

Charmayne pulled her arm back to smack Joel again, but something grabbed at the candlestick and pulled it from her hand.

'_Not now darling, not now. I have plans for that bastard and you don't want to be pulled up for murder.' _

She watched as Joel slumped forwards on top of Spencer and then spun to see who had spoken to her. The candlestick was on the floor beside her. The people in the room were standing doing absolutely nothing. There was no one close enough to have been able to have spoken to her. And she thought that the voice she heard was the same one which had told her to tell Spencer that he was going for a while. 'Who the hell are you?' She spoke to the room as Spencer moaned and tried to push the weight off him self. 'Who _are_ you?'

The group who had gathered over by the door stared back at Charmayne. It was Kensey who spoke. 'Who are you talking to?' But they knew. That thick cloying claustrophobic feeling had filled the room again. Charmayne didn't bother answering. She didn't have an answer. At least not one she wanted to admit to for now. She turned back to Joel and Spencer. It seemed that she'd managed to knock Joel out cold. There was a bloody gash cutting through the tattoo on the back of his head. She had wanted to kill him. If she'd not been stopped she thought she would have kept hitting him until the back of his head caved in. Now she was hoping that all that blood was just because it was a head wound, and they did tend to bleed rather a lot. She move around and grasped one of Joel's arms and pulled him sideways off Spencer who was making soft deep noises at the back of this throat.

'I'm OK.' Spencer said through his mashed lips and bloody nose. 'It probably looks worse than it is.' Spencer looked to his side at Joel and was relieved to see that he was still breathing.

'You're not OK. He mashed your face. Oh my god… what a brute! What did you see in him?'

'I deserved it.' Spencer's fingers played over his face feeling the lumps quickly rising and touching the cut he now had above his right eye.

'How could you have deserved that? This is what happens. This is what I saw my mother go through. My dad beat on her daily and it wasn't until he beat me too that she finally walked from him. You cant let him hit you and then say that you _deserved_ it.'

Slowly Spencer pushed up on to his elbows. He blinked at Charmayne and nodded very slowly and carefully. 'I understand what you're saying but this was different and I did deserve that. Not maybe from Joel, but from all the other _stuff_ I've done.'

Kensey and Marty in unison made snorting laugh sounds. 'So you admit this was all you?' Kensey spat her words as she stepped forwards ready to confront him.

'I think he means something else.' Charmayne commented.

'You _think_? Really? And where does this wise thought come from, Charmayne? Why are you protecting someone who has brought all of this to us? He's gay! He's a queer! He's a…'

'… cocksucking faggot…' Marty added.

'Thank you Marty. I can choose my own words.' Kensey snapped at him. 'You can try all you want girl, but you'll never get in his trousers. He wants something you'll never be able to give him, so stop flirting and re-gather your senses.'

'Oh dear god… what a bitch!' Charmayne shouted back at her. 'I can like someone and respect someone and it not be sexual! What sort of a mind would think that in the first place?'

A hand rested on Charmayne's shoulder. 'It's all right.' Spencer's voice sounded muffled.

But it wasn't all right and Charmayne let the people in the room know. 'It's not all right to use such dirty words at someone. It's not all right to bully like that. It's homophobic and sick. He's not tried anything on with you has he? He's got a long term partner. He's not a threat to you in any way, so why don't you just keep your stupid opinions to yourself. Cant you see that he's the victim here?'

'Charmayne.' Spencer's voice sounded a bit harder this time. 'It's really much better to say nothing. It's always easier to just let things go. There's no need to get angry. If you get angry every time someone points out what they see as one of your failings then you will spend your life angry and you cant let people do that to you.'

'No.' Charmayne replied. 'But unless you want to be a doormat for everyone who thinks they're better than you, you do have to occasionally say something.'

Spencer turned from the eyes watching him, almost expecting him to do something like get his penis out and molest someone. He walked the couple of Steps to Joel and knelt down at his side. 'Joel?' He muttered, but Joel was very out for the count for now.

Floyd watched and listened. He saw the way Spencer was pawing Joel… Joel who he was going to hurt very badly as soon as he got the chance. He could see the bruises popping up on Spencer's face and the blood trickling down from the cut above his eye, but still Spencer was going back to Joel to check he was alive. He wanted to take Spencer by the shoulders and shake his brains back into place. What the hell did he think he was doing being with that thing in the first place? He looked around the room at the faces of the people watching and doing nothing but making judgements and realised that he was one of those people too.

Spencer had spent the past year with Joel _because_ the man was a bully and used his fists; not in spite of it and that had been entirely Floyd's fault and had he not beaten him so much he'd not go looking for the same elsewhere. What narked Floyd about this though, was Spencer's total inability to stop moving from man to man… the one with the biggest fists seemed to win. If Floyd wasn't around to haul Spencer back into place and if he wasn't there blasting out his demands, then Spencer just seemed to skip off and get what he could somewhere else. The only person who Spencer was quite willing to go to and know he wasn't going to end up mashed was to Hotchner.

What narked Floyd more than the matter that he'd gone off with Joel (after all Floyd was apparently dead at that point) was the fact that Spencer had used his… _his_ bed to have other men in… not just Joel. Oh no. Not just Joel… anyone Joel dragged through the door with him, or anyone Joel paid the fee to… that would do Spencer fine. A lovely threesome in _his_ damned bed!

The idea of it was causing Floyd to throb uncomfortably. He looked at the people in the room and picked one at random. A quiet nothing of a person who had kept her mouth shut through all of this. She was Sarah… she had brown hair which was scraped back with a green band. She was wearing jeans and a blue Tshirt. She had a pair of sneakers on her feet and a few freckles across her nose. She was completely a non being. There was no point in her existence. Floyd had a quick rummage into her future, saw nothing and so pointed an angry frustrated finger at her. He then walked on his invisible legs to her and pressed his hand against her chest.

Sarah Shotter didn't even know that anything odd had happened at first. One minute she was a person who was standing there breathing and wondering why her eyes were watering and the next… _pop-bang_ her heart exploded in her chest. She stood for a few seconds with a look of surprise on her face. Blood spurted from her nose and shot out of her ears like she was a bloody fire hydrant and then her knees folded up under her and she flopped to the floor. Goodbye Sarah Shotter… See you in hell. Oh and of course that was followed up by the inevitable screams and curses and accusations. It obviously wasn't something Spencer had done! He was hunkered down on the other side of the room. Kensey broke into prayer (which was still making Spencer's brain itch and made him feel too hot) and it made Floyd feel sick and fluttery and fuzzy. The bitch had faith. It was very misplaces faith and she was _wrong_ in her understanding of how things worked… (she could ask Sarah Shotter that… Sarah was just beginning to understand how it all worked.) It was irrelevant though. Faith was enough.

Marty moved to Sarah and felt for a pulse which he never expected to find. His expectations were not unfounded. Sarah was very dead.

'We should move the dead… put them somewhere.'

'Behind the couch?' Spencer asked… that might have been sarcasm in his voice. It was something he'd been learning over the years from Floyd. Floyd smiled his ghosty smile. He was proud of his boy! 'We can pile them up there and try to forget it's happening.' He then looked into the fireplace, where no secret doors had been located. 'Floyd? Can you hear me? This is enough. I've said I will come with you. I've told you I will. I will come with you and with Sam. The three of us. I need you. I need to be with you. I just don't know how to get you back again! I don't know what I have to do to be with you!'

_'Well you can stop fucking whores in my bed for a start._'

The voice echoed around the room. It seemed to come from every shadow and every bit of light at the same time. Marty made a groaning sound, Kensey pulled the golden cross out of her pocket and held it up in front of her. Charmayne flopped down onto the couch, and the last member of the group…Emma Freeway, slid down the wall with a whimper.

Spencer felt his face burning hot… even over the scratches and bumps and lumps he could feel the heat of the blood rushing to his face. 'Floyd, I'll come to you. I just don't know what I'm meant to do! I don't know how to.'

'_Sure you do, Babes. You know. I'm gonna go leave you to think about it. Sam needs my help with some stuff. When you're ready I'll be waiting for you.'_

Again the lights flickered, dimmed, went out… then a buzzing crack later they came back on again.

Only Spencer wasn't in the room anymore. Actually he wasn't even in the house. He on his knees in the cemetery wiping the moss off the brass name plate on Floyd's grave. He made a hitching sobbing sound and looked around. He could remember all that had happened. It certainly wasn't a dream. A premonition maybe? A message?

'OK. I was wrong. I'll make up for it. I will do whatever you want me to do, but you have to promise in return never to leave me like that again. Never to take yourself away from me like that. In return I'll do my best to get along with Sam.' He ran a finger along the words on the marker, spelling out Floyd's name. 'That's not you though. I don't know who it was they buried under here, but it's not you. At least not any longer.' He stood slowly and again looked around. He had in his head a long list of things he needed to do. Today was the day that Joel would come home and announce the big happy event in a haunted house. He needed to stop that and get out of this place as soon as he could.

o-o-o

Spencer drove downtown and parked up in a lot behind a row of mostly dilapidated shops. It was a only a few blocks from the place Sam had been staying in. Not a nice neighbourhood in any sense, but one which he'd been to before many a time in the past. He was looking for a certain person who would be able to provide him with the _goods_ he needed. The small rat of a man was always found in the same place, a dirty, sleazy bar where the beer was cheap and the women even cheaper. It was not and never would be the sort of place Spencer would go to find _entertainment_, but for some shallow comfort, it was the place. He found who he was looking for easily. Spencer purchased the man a drink and took it to the table he did his business at.

'Never thought to see you here again.' The grubby man said. He stank of dirt, sweat, and deceit, but he was the only person Spencer trusted.

'I was hoping I'd never have to visit this place again.' Spencer placed his hand on the table and slid a few high denomination notes across the scuffed and slightly sticky surface. 'The usual. Or at least what used to be.'

The man slowly shook his head. 'Well kid, you know I don't carry my stock with me.'

'How long?'

'A hurry? You don't look like you've been using.' He snatched at Spencer's left hand and with his other hand pushed Reid's sleeve up. 'And you look fairly clean there too, or are you doing it between your toes again?'

Spencer didn't bother pulling his arm back again. He just let it rest on the table with the sleeve pushed up just past his elbow. 'My personal habits are not your concern. I need a full kit and there's enough money there to cover it.'

The ratty man took up the notes without bothering to count. 'Well I'll get you what I can for the cash available. Come back in an hour. If this is a trick…'

'Why would it be?' Spencer now pulled back his arm and pushed the chair back. He stood and looked down at the creature he was doing business with. 'It will be the last time.' Spencer whispered to him. 'Please… the final time.'

The man said nothing. He just shoved the money into his pocket and picked up the drink Spencer had purchased for him. As Reid turned he looked up and watched his back with a frown on his face. 'Not my problem. Just get what the boy wants.' He chugged back the drink, got up and left via the back door.

Spencer's next stop was further into the city. He went to a small shop which sold paper for gift wrapping, he got some red tissue paper and a length of ribbon. He smiled at the shop girl who reminded him a lot of Charmayne and then popped into the bank which stood near to the hotel he'd been staying in oh so long ago. He talked to the cashier who fetched the manager and Spencer opened up the safety deposit box he'd left Floyd's lighter in. He stuffed it deep into his pocket and left. Next stop was in a coffee shop where he ordered a strong coffee and then sat and wrapped the lighter up in the red tissue paper. He wound the ribbon tightly around it and slipped it into his pocket.

On the way back to the car he picked up a pack of 20 smokes in a red and white box, and a green plastic lighter. It was all stuffed into his pockets.

Final stop for now was back at the bar. It hadn't been quite an hour, but he was sure that what he'd ordered would be available. He pushed through the dark wooden doors and saw the rat man sitting there with his sallow skin and deep set hooded eyes. There was no drinks bought this time. Just a quick handing over of a small package. Spencer placed it on the table and pressed his fingers down onto the brown paper.

'Don't worry. A full kit. And I got you enough stuff there to kill a fucking army. Be careful with it.'

Spencer nodded and picked up the package. 'Thank you.' He muttered. He wanted to say something else too. He wanted to tell the man that the world was coming to an end and to confess his sins whilst he still could, but that wasn't quite the feeling Spencer had. It was certainly a feeling of finality and endings, but maybe it was just his own he could feel. He walked back to the car and put the package in the glove compartment without checking it. The rat man was reliable. Spencer didn't have to check it. The rat man might look like the most likely candidate to backstab, thieve and take what he could, but weirdly the man was always one hundred percent honest when it came to his business. At least Spencer hoped he was.

Now he had to contact Joel. He decided that the best thing to do was to buy a disposable cell phone… make the call… and get rid of the thing. It felt right that way. He didn't want to be found or followed or talked out of what he had planned.

The phone was blue with a metallic finish to it. He sat in his car with his stash of goodies and a two bottles of water and dialled his own house land line number. Joel would be home and wondering where Spencer was… or he would be home with some young twink he'd found in a bar. Spencer ground his teeth in anticipation. He knew what he had to say… It was just getting it out and saying it…

'Hello?' It was Joel.

'Are you alone?' Spencer asked. Not that Joel would admit that he had a blonde pretty boy displaying his wares on the couch if he _did_.

'Sure. What's wrong?'

Spencer gripped the phone tighter and took a deep breath. 'Joel I need you to listen to me carefully.'

'Fuck… Spencer? Are you all right? Is something wrong…?'

'Just listen to me. I'm going away for a few days. I need to get things sorted in my head. When I'm gone I need you to pack up and move out. Go back to your old place. I'm going back to Floyd.'

'Wait one minute. Spencer… where the hell are you?' Spencer could hear the panic in Joel's voice.

'I'm fine. And you don't need to know where I am. I'm going back to Floyd. I'm sorry, Joel, really I led you on and I shouldn't have. I cant have you living in my home anymore. I don't like you bringing back boys for us to share. I don't like sleeping with you or having sex in my bed. I cant do it anymore and keep on lying to you. Forgive me? Please? I'm sorry. I have to go. Floyd is waiting.'

'Spencer! Wait… don't hang up. Keep talking to me. Tell me what's suddenly happened. Where are you? Have you been to the cemetery? Has something happened?' Joel's panicked voice was snapping off the words almost too fast for Spencer to understand.

'Nothing's happened as such. Just please move out.'

'Are you coming back again? Spencer? When?'

Spencer sighed and looked at the glove compartment. 'Joel… I don't know. It will depend on Floyd and Sam I suppose.'

Reid could hear that Joel was pacing. He could almost see him walking in rapid circles in the lounge.

'Spencer? I love you… please whatever it is you have planned, don't do it.'

'I have to go now.'

Spencer took the phone away from his ear and snapped it shut. He didn't want to hear Joel begging. He would have to go and talk to him face to face and then that would lead to other things and that wasn't going to happen again. Not today… not ever.

The next hour or so Spencer spent with his hands gripping the steering wheel and his head resting between them. He cried. Not the sort of tears you cry when you've lost someone you love, but the sort of tears you cry when you finally work out that you've been wrong all your life and someone else has been right. It's the sort of tears you cry when a baby is born, or you find your soul mate… or maybe when you finally tell the abusive bastard you're living with to move out…

It's the sort of tears of relief you cry when you figure out that the only answer is to die… He was sure that was the only answer.

He drove for a couple of days up towards the woodlands and forests. He slept in small run down motels and he ate a full and healthy breakfast each morning. He smoked a little, but not much, and he didn't drink. Spencer awoke each morning with a smile on his face. A contented smile, not a strained tired consolatory one. He was for now genuinely happy to be alive… but maybe that was because he knew it was only for a few more days. You can bare anything if you know there's an end to it. He eventually stopped the car at the side of a rutted lane. There was a deep ditch at one side and so with the brake off he took from the car what he needed and then pushed it down into the ditch. It didn't disguise it totally and so he pulled branches over and across just to give it a better chance of not being found that very day. With a backpack on his back he began to walk into the woodlands. He was walking in the direction he'd gone that day with Taki, when they'd been on horses. He knew that from the place he'd dumped his car that he'd have two or maybe three days walk ahead of him. He stood, looked at the sky and smiled. 'I'm on my way boys! I'm on my way.'

o-o-o

Whilst Spencer was enjoying the lovely weather and finally at peace with the decision he'd made, Joel was walking in dazed random directions around the city. He'd visited the places where he knew Spencer liked to go… the bars, the clubs, the back streets… he didn't know of the rat man. That was someone Spencer never talked about. But if Joel _had_ known, the rat man wouldn't have disclosed information to a thug. Especially not information about a client like Spencer.

One the second day that Spencer had been gone Joel made a telephone call. He wasn't happy about making it, but maybe this person knew something. Maybe Spencer had called him too? He didn't know. He waited until the moon was high in the sky before he plucked up the courage to call Hotchner. Telephoning a Fed wasn't on Joel's list of exciting things to do. It was definitely a last resort. The man Joel spoke too didn't sound too happy to have gotten the call, but Joel had to remind himself that the man was a Fed and wouldn't let panic or worry show in his voice over a telephone. He was also aware that Hotchner was probably recording the call.

'I'm a friend of Reid's.' Joel started. 'I got a weird telephone call from him a couple of days ago… I think he's going to do something stupid.'

He could hear Hotchner take a deep breath. 'Why are you calling me?' A cold voice. An unemotional voice. Probably his business voice.

'I wondered if he'd called you. Told you anything?'

There was silence for a while. Maybe a slight ticking of a clock in the background. 'What did he say to you?' Hotchner finally asked.

Joel told him as much of the conversation that he remembered and he could hear by the way the breathing on the other end of the line changed that it alarmed Hotchner too. 'I was wondering if you could trace his car?'

'Officially? No… you need to list him as a missing person.'

'He's suicidal! There must be something you can do! You're a fucking Federal Agent! Get someone out there to look for him. I've been everywhere I can think of and no one's seen him. I've even been to the damned cemetery… Floyd's grave…'

'Joel.' Hotchner spoke quietly and slowly. 'He is a grown man. If he wants to go away for a while there is nothing I can do to stop him. If he wants to find peace in his mind and try to come to terms with what happened – I don't know if you know everything – but if that's what he needs to do then it's not my place to stop him.'

Joel wanted to put his hand down the phone line and grab Hotchner by the throat. 'He's going to kill himself! He said he wants to be with Floyd and Floyd is dead. What else can he mean by that?'

Again that silence and the distant ticking of a clock. 'A lot more than you would ever imagine. If I hear from him I will tell him to contact you. That's all I can promise.'

'And when he turns up dead?' Joel was squeezing the phone now.

'I need to go now. Please let me know when he comes home again.' The line went dead.

'Christ on a stick! Everyone is mad!' He slammed the phone down and looked around the small house. 'Right, he wants me out of here, I guess I'd best get my stuff and go.' A big brown envelope sat on the coffee table. It was an itinerary for a murder weekend in a haunted house. Joel gave it a dangerous glare and then walked around the house feeling oddly alone. 'I'm going to smack that little cunt so hard when he comes home.' He snapped to himself as he sat down, picked up the TV remote and started to flick through the channels.

o-o-o

Spencer walked with the black backpack bouncing on his back. He didn't have food with him, but he didn't think he'd need any. He could go a few days and not eat. He did have water. A limited supply, but water none the less. He couldn't afford to get confused and sick through dehydration. He had his shirt sleeves rolled up and his cords rolled up to mid calf. It wasn't a pathway or even an animal track he was following, but more of a pull from deep within the woodlands. He could probably have walked it with his eyes closed if he'd needed to. But that wasn't necessary. He plucked at leaves as he went and pulled them apart and listened to birds singing in the trees. It was daylight. All was good in the daylight. Night time might be a different matter, though Spencer had a good feeling that Floyd was watching out for him somewhere. He stopped his walk three times on that first day. Once to get something out of his shoe, once to sit and stare at the tree canopy for half an hour and drink some water, and again to relieve himself in the bushes. He didn't intend to light a fire that night so a camp as such wasn't really needed. He just sat down on a soft lump of grass with his back to a tree and smoked a couple of the cigarettes he'd purchased. He also took time now to check out the small package rat man had sold him. There were two small glass phials. Spencer rolled them around in his hand. One had clear liquid in it and the other was a foggy golden colour. There were two needles a small pack of antiseptic swabs and a rubber strip to put around his arm. That was all he needed. He felt his heart thumping and leaping in his chest and he wasn't sure at first if it was the worry of what he was holding or if it was the thrill that he'd taken control of something. The past year with Joel had been a rush of pain and interesting bed time experiences. Spencer would have liked to have said that he felt like a prisoner and that he couldn't escape from the situation he'd gotten into, but that wasn't true. He could have, at any point in the past year, even from that time Joel approached him in the club… he could have told him _no_, but that word wasn't used. At least not with any feeling. Spencer had just let everything drift by and happen as he secretly wallowed in grief and confusion. That was gone now and it felt like someone had given him a magical drug which suddenly gave him complete understanding of how everything worked.

Hadnt Kensey said he was fuzzy around the edges?

Did that mean that nothing was real and never would be again?

Spencer put the things back in the bag and took out the red package he'd made for Floyd. 'I kept it safe.' He whispered to himself. 'Safer than I kept myself.' He held the little tissue paper covered gift to his nose and inhaled it. He could smell Floyd. He could smell that lovely buzz that Floyd's stink gave him. Even though Floyd had never held the paper it still had his smell about it. Spencer placed it carefully back in his bag, curled up on his side, closed his eyes and went to sleep.

o-o-o

Charmayne sat at the table she usually sat at in the coffee house. She had a strong but milky coffee in front of her and a muffin on a small white plate to her side. It was her day off and tomorrow she was going on one of those murder weekends. She'd been saving all year to be able to afford to do this and she was feeling delightfully relaxed. She rummaged around in her big green bag and pulled out a book she'd been wading through. When she looked up again a man was sitting at the table opposite her. That was fine. She didn't mind that, but it was the way he was looking at her which made the hairs on the back of her neck try to stand up.

He was dirty. She could smell the dirt from where she was sitting. He looked like one of the many homeless people who lived in the city. They didn't usually come into places like this though, and they didn't sit there smiling and holding a mug of coffee either. He was wearing a woolly hat which was strange considering how nice the weather had been recently. He also had on a pair of black fingerless gloves. She could see the dirt though under his fingernails and could see the sweat stains on his once upon a time white shirt. 'I've been following you.' He stated as though that was the most natural thing to say to someone.

Charmayne went to get up and leave, but he put a hand out and placed it over one of hers. 'Let go of my hand or I'll shout out and make such a fuss you wont know what's hit you.' She hissed at him. She could feel panic… deep horrific panic building up inside.

The hand left hers and went to his breast pocket. 'Hang on, before you go…' He placed his hand on the table again and slid something across to her. 'You dropped this… when you got off the bus; it fell out of your pocket.' He lifted his hand and started to sip on his coffee.

Charmayne looked down at the lottery ticket and shook her head. 'You've been following the wrong person then, I don't do the lottery.'

'Oh but you should! At least this week. Cash it Charmayne. It's going to be a winner. I can assure you. Check the numbers. You have a fancy arsed phone there?'

'How do you know my name?'

'I don't. Not yet anyway. You really do want to check those numbers though. Forget the fucking weekend in a haunted house and go somewhere real nice.'

She picked up the ticket and inspected the numbers. 'This has winning numbers? You look like someone who needs money, why are you giving this to me.' She leaned forwards slightly. 'Who are you? How do you know so much about me?'

'I'm someone you will be thanking for eternity. It's just my way of thanking you.'

'Thanking me for what?' Her phone was out in her hand and she was now punching in stuff on her phone to check out the latest winning numbers.

'Just for being you.' He smiled, drank back the rest of the coffee and stood. 'I'm Floyd. You'll meet me in your dreams, but apart from that I don't think we'll see each other again. Have a wonderful life Charmayne. And again, thank you.'

When she looked up from her phone with wide unbelieving eyes the man had gone. She could still smell him though. Again she checked the numbers on the ticket and what was on her phone. She then placed the ticket in a zipped up inside pocket of her bag, got up and walked from the coffee shop as fast as she could.

o-o-o

Spencer awoke to the sound of the dawn chorus. He opened his eyes but for a while didn't move. He breathed in the smell of the ground he'd been sleeping on and again felt his heart hammering in his chest. He wondered if this was the feeling Floyd got when he woke up after sleep in a forest. He had a good idea that he did. It was the outright purity of it. Untainted and unmarked… Slowly he sat up and stretched. He drank some water and removed his shoes. Today he wanted to feel the ground beneath his feet. He pulled off his socks and stuffed them one into each shoe, got up, brushed the leaves from his butt and carried on walking in the direction he had done the previous day.

He could feel things digging into the bottom of his feet, but it didn't matter. It didn't actually hurt as such when brambles wrapped themselves around his lower legs where the skin was exposed. He looked with a sort of distant wonder at the blood which oozed from the scratches, but he didn't touch it.

'If I touch it, and I see it on my finger then I know this is real. If I taste it then I know I'm alive. But I'm not. I'm fuzzy around my edges. I'm like Floyd and Sam. I've crossed that barrier between being alive and being dead. I guess I'm a zombie!' Spencer grinned at this revelation, but still didn't touch the blood.

Bleeding means you're alive.

It was why he'd sliced into his own arms so many times. Seeing that blood there and tasting it and smelling it was a guarantee that he was still alive. It was too late now though. Much too late. If he gave into such ideas at this point then he thought that all control over everything everywhere would be lost. At around mid-day he stopped to pick things out of the bottom of his feet. There were small stones embedded in the soles of his feet and little digs which held bramble thorns, but his feet sort of felt numb. For about five minutes he sat on a fallen tree and picked at his feet and then had a drink, but the pull was greater now that he was getting closer. He had to keep going.

He broke out into a jog about an hour later. He felt things smacking against his face and tearing at his shirt as he raced through the woodland, but he ignored it, wiped sweat and blood from his face with his forearm and just kept on going. 'Today, get there today.' He muttered as he tripped and stomped through the woodlands which seemed almost to be trying to hold him back… trying to stop him from getting there. Things reached out and dragged at his hair, pulled at his legs, tearing firstly at his clothing and then ripping at his flesh. Something attempted to pull the backpack away and Spencer stopped and turned around. 'You stop it now! I'm going. I'm going to do this if I have to crawl all the way there! You cant stop me!' He then re-shouldered the bag and slipped back into a jog.

He had a pain in his side which was creeping up to dig in under his arm. He felt sick and light headed. His feet was bleeding, he had cuts and scrapes up his arms, the knees of his cords were ripped open and both knees were bloodied, but when he finally sat down as the light disappeared again he knew he'd not made it as far as he could have. He couldn't carry on though. Even though he could have walked on in the dark, the pain in his side was too much. He was drawing in short sharp breaths and letting out long hard sobs. 'I wanted it finished today. Please, please let me be there tomorrow. I need to end this.' He whispered to the trees. 'Don't try to stop me.' He fell asleep almost before he'd closed his eyes and slept a night without dreams. He awoke refreshed and ready to carry on. Firstly he removed his shirt and tied what was left of it around his waist. He checked that he had all he needed in his backpack, had a long drink of warm water, threw the bottle to the side and moved on quickly again. He did short spurts of jogging interspersed with quick walking. He knew that today was the day and as he walked he looked around and smiled at the wildlife. He noticed things like small flowers and insects and rows of ants trying to do what they needed to do, but he didn't notice the cuts on his face or the way a few of his toes were swollen and going black. He didn't notice the things crawling over his sweaty and bleeding skin. All he knew really was this was the most beautiful place on earth and he was going to be happy here; forever.

Just before the sun was at the highest he tripped over a rock and went down to his knees. The rough ground tore open his all ready bleeding knees and he scraped his hands, pulling back a couple of fingernails. It didn't matter though. He'd arrived. He was here. He'd found Sam.

Slowly and with an entirely insane smile on his face he sat up and looked around. He didn't have to check though. That pull had stopped. The feeling now around him was complete and utter peace. 'I'm on my way. Wait for me. Wait for me Floyd… I'm on my way Sam. Don't leave without me.' He pulled the kit out of the backpack and sat with it on his lap.


	23. Chapter 23

23

Sam had a long soak in the tub and he enjoyed almost every minute of it. The feel of the oily water was such a blessing that he wanted to cry, but fucking Jibb had to spoil it; had to sneak into the tub with Sam and touch his sore place between his legs. Jibb insisted that he was just making sure.

'Making sure of what?' Sam snapped back at him.

'Making sure thee has a dicky.'

Sam slapped out at Jibb until he got out of the water again. 'Go away.'

'Buts been told to looks after thee ands I've this stuff to put drops in thees eyes cos thee canna see fuck all. Cos you're blob fodder and has no other prime use. Cos you're a fuck and a retard.' Sam could smell Jibb's breath on his face. It stank of shit and vomit and blood and belly button fluff.

'I'm not a retard!'

A hand touched Sam's face. 'Head back Booboo. I needs to do this. Thee will scream your precious nuts off, but I's gonna do it any how.'

The hand quickly moved to Sam's hair, pulled his head back and put drops of something in his eyes.

The screams were quite amazing. Sam stood up in the bathtub, pressing the heel of his hands to his eyes opened his mouth and howled a long pain filled sound of murderous rage. Jibb might have been a lowly creature who talked a bit odd, but he was no fool. He was long gone by the time Floyd returned and found Sam laying amongst the cushions of his tent. He rolled Sam onto his back to make sure he was still alive and asked him to open his eyes.

'Never, ever will I open my eyes again. I think that fuck put acid in them. I can feel them bubbling and burning.' Floyd told Sam that he was an idiot and the drops merely burnt away the protective layer which builds up to cover the eye when being constantly shat out by a blob. Sam told Floyd to go… 'Eat shit and die.' He then showed Floyd his middle finger. Floyd commented on Sam's language and told him a few nice things he was going to do to Sam later if he carried on the way he was.

'I had to beg to get you back.'

'Fucking liar.'

'I had to beg to get you back.' Floyd repeated. 'I didn't want this to happen to you.'

'You left me to rot in the woods. You didn't even take my heart. You just let someone else chuck me under the dirt and then you gave me Taki's fucking head for company. Am I meant to say _thank you_? Because it's kinda sticking in my throat right now. You fucking let Taki take me.'

Floyd flopped down on a cushion and took hold of one of Sam's hands. They were still cracked and sore and it looked like a layer or two of skin had been melted away, but he was looking better than he had been. 'Circumstances made the conditions of your burial difficult. I had to do what I could.'

'You had to go running after Spencer, don't you mean? He's more important than me.'

Floyd nodded. He didn't know if Sam could see and didn't much care for now. 'Sam, you will cease this… whatever it is towards Spencer. You will learn to get along with him. Things happen sometimes. Not always nice things. You have to grow up and deal with it.'

'He…'

'Nope. No. I know what he did. I was there. I was there for all of it. You seem to forget that.'

'Then you should know that forgiving him is not going to be easy.' Sam started to rub at his eyes again.

Floyd placed a cool hand on Sam's exposed stomach and began to draw circles around Sam's navel with his finger. 'You're going to have to try, because I cant have you two fighting constantly. You shot him. You got your revenge and now it has to stop.' Sam made a small whimpering sound and grabbed Floyd's hand, trying to push it further down his body. 'No.' And the hand was gone. 'Nothing for you until you learn to get along with Spencer. You don't have to forgive him as such, but just stop the constant bitching. Then this hand of mine will go wherever you want it go. My gift to you for doing what you're told for once. You have to remember your place.' Floyd prodded Sam on the chest. 'It's the bottom of the pile… probably for a good reason. You have to earn your place. You cant just demand it.'

'Oh and you should know.'

'Sometimes I have a shocking memory. Now let me see those eyes of yours.'

Jibb schemed and plotted dastardly deaths for Sam. He pulled out recipe books and marked the good ones. He nicked a little tricky device which sucked eyes straight out of the skull. He was then called to help and serve someone else and by the time he'd poured drinks and licked some toes he'd forgotten that he'd had a job working with Flanders.

But he kept the eyeball suckers… they looked interesting, even if he couldn't remember who they were meant for. 'Such is the life of Jibb.' He sighed.

Floyd gave Sam a lot of very comforting words which he hoped were true but he really wasn't sure about. He told Sam that he was beautiful and his skin wasn't as bad as it felt. He looked a tad shiny but he would heal. He told Sam that his eyes were going to be just fine and he was sure that the bald spots on his head wouldn't show when he brushed his hair.

OK that last bit was a fabrication. There were no bald spots but it amused Floyd to see the frantic way Sam tried to find them. Floyd just kept on moving Sam's hands away saying things like. 'Don't keep touching it. You'll make it worse.' Which obviously caused Sam to whine and bitch even more. It was a good time to leave him for a while. 'I've things to do. Spencer wont arrive for a while yet. Time's different on this side. He'll wait till I get back. Just stay here and relax and stop picking at your scabs and leave your hair alone. If Jibb returns get him to do eye drops for you.' He'd given Sam the tiny bottle they were housed in. 'Or do them yourself if he doesn't.' And he thought Jibb was gone now. There was no longer a need for him. 'Sleep.' Floyd rubbed soothing creams over the sore looking weepy skin and gave him a kiss on the corner of his mouth where Sam kept a rather nice little dimple. It only showed when he smiled, which wasn't often, but it was there anyway. And Floyd was rather happy to know that it was his.

'What if Spencer arrives before you come back?'

'He wont. But for your own reassurance I request that you're nice to him. For me. I'll give you treats if you do.'

'Candy?' Sam reached out for Floyd but Floyd moved back out of his reach, not because he didn't want Sam touching him, but because he liked to see that expression on Sam's face. That lost little boy, pissed off expression.

'Maybe. Just behave. I need to go kill someone. I'll be back probably before you've woken up again.' He leaned in and wiped a finger over Sam's sticky face. 'Sleep.'

And it was almost instantaneous. Sam's body relaxed and those long deep sleepy breaths started.

o-o-o

Joel had eaten a hot dog at a rough dive on the outskirts of the city. He was in a shitty mood. Spencer had gone bonkers and told him to get out of their house and then that twat Hotchner told him that there was nothing he could do about finding Spencer, who in Joel's opinion was just a few sandwiches short of a picnic. He threw the used paper napkin in a wire sided bin, pulled the car door open and threw himself sulkily into the driver's side.

'Good idea if you just drive. I'll tell you where to go.'

Joel turned slowly to look at the uninvited passenger. 'What in the name of living hell?' He stared into Floyd's dark eyes. 'You're fucking dead! You cant be here!'

Floyd nodded in agreement. 'Well looks like you were just a tad off in your beliefs. Drive Joel. I don't want to talk this matter over with you sitting here in this dirty hole. Drive north. Out of the city.'

'You get out of my damned car!'

'No. And you're not going to call for help either or I'll rip your disgusting balls off right here. I'm dead remember? I can do what I fucking well want to do.'

Joel slowly pushed the keys into the ignition but he couldn't take his eyes off the dead man sitting next to him. He could easily be convinced that Floyd was actually dead. He smelt like he was! Christ he stank! Bile rose into Joel's throat as he pulled out of the parking lot and onto the fairly quiet road. 'What you going to do to me?'

'Why would I do anything?' Floyd lit up a smoke. 'Have you done something wrong? I mean apart from slap around something which doesn't belong to you? Apart from using my money for a free ride? Or maybe it was fucking whores in my bed? Sticking you cock up an arse which belongs to me? I dunno.' Floyd gave a shrug and puffed out smoke. 'You tell me Joel. Convince me that you've never hit Spencer. Tell me that the food you ate wasn't purchased with my money… that the house you lived in isn't mine… that the sheets your squirted your load over and made boys bleed on weren't actually my Egyptian cotton. I'm listening Joel.'

'You've got a grave marker.'

'Uh hu. Mistakes happen. Wasn't me they buried. It was… let me think… who the hell was it now? Some missing person they'll never find… Eddie Goldwin… That was who it was. Not me. Surprise! Bet you thought you were going to get away with taking what was mine didn't you? I was just away on business Joel. Not dead. Just away for the duration.'

Joel carried on driving hoping above all hope that he'd see a cop car. He would drive right into it… he would say the man in his passenger seat had threatened him. He would do that. But first he had to find a goddamned cop to crash into! 'He came looking for company.'

'No… no Joel. He came looking for a fist and a fuck. You provided him with that. Good boy. Well done. The mistake you made wasn't that initial meeting. It was the continuance of that event which has made me feel that Spencer is not only unfaithful to the very core and a bit of a slag, but also he's greedy. Very greedy. Don't you agree?'

'I've never hurt him.' Joel whispered… such a lie! It wafted off him almost as thickly as the smoke drifting out of Floyd's nostrils.

'Well I know that's a lie, Joel. He'd not stay with you or let you stay with him if you didn't smack him around. It's his drug. He loves it. He needs it… pain and pleasure stuff you know? So you see by default I know you hit him. Makes sense? Cut in whenever you want Joel. I'm ready and willing to listen to any excuse you might come up with.'

'It's Spencer's house.'

'It's _my_ fucking house. I pay the fucking mortgage on it. It's therefore mine. The bills are paid by me. Spencer wasn't working where the hell did you think he was getting all of this money from?'

'Savings?'

Floyd cranked open the window slightly and threw the end of the cheroot out. 'So you were living off Spencer's savings? Nice… that's very chivalric. Can I tell you something about chivalry?' Joel didn't protest so Floyd carried on. 'It's of military and aristocratic origin. Medieval – That means that it's _well old_ and you'd associate it with courtly love… you'd know nothing about that though, honour – which is another thing you'd know sod all about and obviously knightly virtues. May I please quote something to you? "blah blah blah effects on the medieval person is pride aspiring to beauty, and formalized pride gives rise to a _conception_ of honour, which is the _pole_ of noble life." You don't come across as very noble but the pride bit I'd happily agree with, and we all know what pride comes before, don't we? Pull over anywhere along here Joel. I don't make a good passenger. I don't like someone else being in control of something and my driving skills are a bit erratic… so I think we will just end the journey here. I was going to ask you to drive further, but I really don't trust you very much Joel. You hurt my Spencer. You insulted me. The Spencer thing I can get over even though it probably not be the noble thing to do! You see how I tie everything up? Here, have a smoke. Relax. I'm not going to hurt you Joel. I'll not lay a finger on you. I promise. I can hardly sit here and bemoan the fate of Spencer and his slutty whoring ways and then just walk away from you though.'

Joel had pulled the car over onto a small lay-by. It was probably used by people as a rest stop, A place to piss in the bushes and have that cigarette they'd been dying for. 'Look, I didn't know that you were paying for the place. I'll move out.'

Floyd passed over the cheroot and Joel accepted it with a shaking hand. He would have smoked a dog turd to get Floyd out of his car and leave him alone. 'Ah don't worry about that. I know you'll not be going back there. It's not a worry in the end is it?' Floyd pulled something out of his pocket. 'See this? It's called… wait… let me get this right… Nathpha… nice name don't you think? This is a form used usually for lighter fluid. I suppose it's sort of used in the same way Butane is, but this is derived from a different source. I personally like this better. I like the smell. Want to smell it? Keep the cheroot out of the way, Joel, this shit is likely to just _go_ you know… _whumph_… beautiful stuff.'

'Now look…'

'End. It's the end. Say your last words.' Floyd upended the small container onto Joel's lap.

'Goddamn you!' He made a grab for the door handle.

'They have. They have so many times that it's not going to be possible to get my wings back!' Floyd clicked alight a cheap yellow disposable lighter. 'Well, Joel, buddy, you've said nothing to convince me that this isn't the end you deserve. I'm going to set fire to your dirty abusive dick and I'm going to be just out there watching. You stay right were you fucking well are cos burning to death is a horrible way to go, but I can also think of a lot worse.' With one hand Floyd pushed open the car door. With the other he dropped the burning lighter onto Joel's lap.

Floyd slammed the door closed again and then stood and watched. 'Wow.' Floyd muttered. He could hear the screams and he could see Joel try to get out, but he just went up like a scarecrow on a bonfire. Floyd moved back a bit as the flames inside the car spread… Joel just sat there and let it happen or maybe it was just that he was dead by then? Not that he could have gotten out but it was those screams though that Floyd enjoyed so much. 'Shit that must have hurt like a son of a bitch.'

The business with Kensey was in one way easier to resolve and in another a bit painful… well a lot painful for Kensey, but also for Floyd too. He followed her for a short distance. She walked down a busy street. A lot of people. A lot of traffic. She held her large bag over her shoulder and had an arrogant way of walking. Kensey didn't get out of the way for anyone. They had to move around her. She was better than them, so obviously they should move. Floyd watched her cross at a busy junction. She kept safe where it came to crossing roads. She stood with her toes on the edge of the kerb and waited for the WALK sign to show, but her posture was as though she was ready to move the moment that sign changed and may the gods help anyone who carried on driving once the red light showed, because Kensey stopped for no man, woman or child… and certainly not for yellow cabs.

It had been raining, but the day was still stuffy and too warm. She had a light sheen of sweat on her brow and under her chin and the woman was _focused_ and that was Floyd's advantage. He was quite sure that if he got too close to her that she'd sense something and turn and look at him. He was sure that the little golden cross would twinkle and shine and try to burn his eyes right out of his head, because though Kensey was not a nice person, it was faith that mattered. You can be the most vile murdering shit on the planet, but if you had faith… well faith can hurt if directed at the right person.

So he followed her and watched her, each step she took he took one to match, never getting closer, but never falling further back. Floyd looked much as he had when Charmayne had seen him. He looked like a down and out and that was the reason no one came into contact with him or even really looked at him. It was very doubtful that anyone would remember that they'd seen him. It was what Floyd wanted. They crossed the road and carried on walking. There were shops to his left and there was traffic to his right. The shops were a mix of female clothing stores, shoe shops and large bright coffee places. A fine place to go shopping if you liked that sort of thing, but it looked as though Kensey wasn't interested. She was as said before _focused_ on something. Probably the weekend away she had booked.

Another junction. A much busier one this time and Floyd took a deep breath and moved in close and it made his eyes water and it felt as though something was crawling around scratching at the inside of his skull. Again Kensey had her toes on the edge of the kerb. He back straight, muscles in her calves bunched and ready to rock and roll. The big bus was rushing down towards the intersection. Floyd moved in closer. Touching distance now. Kensey turned her head as though she was listening to something and then glanced at the bus. It was going very fast and probably much too fast to be able to stop if the lights suddenly changed. Kensey took mental note of the registration of the vehicle. She would report it when she got home. Have the man lose his licence.

As it happened she never made it home that day. She didn't even make it to the other side of the street. The bus was getting closer… closer… Floyd lifted a hand and readied himself. A quick look around and no one was looking at him. No one was looking at Kensey. All eyes were glued on the Don't Walk thing and waiting for it to change.

And there it was. The bus was almost there. Its front wheels were about to cross over the markers on the road and Floyd gave Kensey one small push. She let out a yelp as the muscles in her legs suddenly thinking that it was time to go moved her forwards. She just about had time to look at dismay at the driver… and then she was gone.

Floyd moved back as the screaming crowd moved in. He was sort of sorry that some of the kids on the bus had to see that, but most of them on there were going to end up in gangs and be dead or in prison before they reached the age of eighteen anyway. Their lives were already forfeited. Floyd stepped back some more, a hand over his lower face and his eyes wide… trying to fit in. Trying not to be noticed.

And then he slipped away to rape Marty in the back of his car.

Marty never reported the incident. It's not something that's easy to do, but the man jumped him as he was getting in his car, smacked him over the head with something and then raped him and did other things which would haunt Marty for the rest of his life.

The next place to go was to see Spencer.

o-o-o

Spencer had cleared away some of the rocks he'd placed over the earth covering Sam. He had done it carefully and was talking to Sam all the while he did it. 'It's OK. All sorted now.' He muttered to himself. 'I'm sorry Sam. I'm so sorry. I should have protected you from Taki. I failed. Please forgive me.' And so he rattled on and on in a far away voice as he cleared an area of rocks.

Floyd didn't disturb Spencer. He rubbed at the side of his leg and winced at the pain shooting through it and then he hunkered down and waited. He was pretty sure that Spencer was going to OD on something. Floyd would have thought that a number of methods for ending it would have gone through his head. He would have had statistics popping up into his beautiful head and he would have realised that wrist slicing doesn't always kill… sometimes you just wake up feeling ill and with fingers with have gone numb. He'd not shoot himself… Drugs seemed the likely way for Spence. Reid knew drugs better than some people would imagine.

Floyd listened to Spencer asking Sam to forgive him. He listened to Spencer telling the rocks that he forgave Sam. It was all done now. All in the past. Let it go. Move on… blah blah blah… he did go on a bit. Floyd put a hand over his mouth and yawned. It wouldn't be long now. Spencer would do it today and he'd not wait until the light was too bad to see by.

Spencer sat on a bit of ground he'd made free of rocks. He looked at his hands which were shaking and he looked at the grazes and cuts covering them. Then the rubber strip was tied around his left arm. Spencer pulled it tight and then held up his hand, palm upwards and looked carefully at it. He clenched his fist a couple of times and then smiled. 'Here we go then.' He said to himself. He wiped a place on his arm with an antiseptic wipe. He then pulled the little red pack out of the backpack and slipped it into his pocket. Then he lay down on his side and readied the needle.

It was totally painless. And as soon as the needle went in and a monstrous amount of something almost gold in colour was injected into his arm, Floyd moved forwards. He approached from behind Spencer and lay down with him on the place they'd left Sam. He pulled the rubber strap off Spencer's arm and made sure all the drug was gone from the needle, he then pulled it out and tossed it aside and held on… he held on very tightly. He wrapped his arms around his Spencer and moved a leg over Spencer's legs and pulled him in as close as he could. Floyd pressed his face into the back of Spencer's neck and Spencer subconsciously pressed himself back hard against Floyd.

Floyd felt the shuddering. He felt the way Spencer's body tried to fight it… and he felt that heart slamming erratically in Spencer's chest. A bird sung a song somewhere… And Spencer slipped away with Floyd to somewhere else.

At least for now.


	24. Chapter 24

24

Sam's POV

So we stand there the three of us and pretend to be friends. I have to say I forgive Spencer for smacking my face in (old story and I know I keep going on about this, but it's kinda haunting me… seeing that bloody thing coming down on my face.) I tell him that I'm sorry for putting him through shit. And he accepts it and apologises back but he doesn't mean it any more than I mean it. It's not just what happened that day though. If it was I'd probably be able to just say it's another thing that's happened. Lots has happened. Some maybe even worse than that, but that really isn't the fucking point! The point is that Floyd loves Spencer… and I'm a toy he masturbates into. _That's_ the damned problem and if neither of those two love birds can see or understand that, then they're more stupid than they look. Sure I can get along with Spencer. Sure I can keep my mouth shut when I want to say something, but why the hell should I? Floyd speaks his mind, Spencer's learning how to, but me? NO! I'm not permitted to feel hurt.

This isn't me feeling sorry for myself.

This is just me trying to get things in perspective, you know?

Because wherever we go and what ever place we decide to settle down in, I'll still be _the kid_ and it'll still be _wrong_ for Floyd to love me in public. I'll never get the kiss goodbye on the doorstep. I'll be hidden away pretending to be something I'm not. But I've had to promise to get along with Spencer and on the surface I will. I can do that. But don't expect my secret longings to have something I keep being denied to change. Nothing's going to stop me from loathing ever fibre of Spencer's being.

'I'm sorry Spencer. I know it wasn't your fault. I know you did all you could.'

There. Accept it you son of a bitch or fuck off and leave us alone. I cant forgive him for everything because he's still doing it! He's still stomping all over my feelings and I'm just a dog, but even a dog has feelings. So fuck him. And one day I will. And he'll realise that all Floyd knows he learnt off me, and I'm a much better fuck than Floyd will ever be. So stick _that_ where the sun don't shine, Dr. Reid! That's why he comes back to me over and over again. I'm a good screw. And unfortunately Floyd seems to like you too. Though honestly there is no comparison. I've seen what you do. I've taken notes.

Fucking tosser.

Fucking shit mother fucking bastard.

Why don't you just die and stay dead.

You're _not_ one of us. And you'll never be one of us.

Or I can kid myself and pretend everything is going to be rosy. Right?

Spencer's POV

We stand facing each other. The three of us. Of course. How am I feeling about this? I feel faintly buzzed to be honest. It's that feeling you get when you've had just about enough to drink, but someone spiked your last glass. A buzz which feels slightly off. Floyd is standing in silence and Sam has offered apologies and I've reciprocated and offered my own. I know mine are honest, but I can see that look in Sam's eyes and I know that his are just words which mean nothing. Would he actively do something to hurt me? Physically, no – at least not yet and not again. He's still trying desperately to repair the damage done previously – at least on the surface he is.

I've interviewed or been part of interviews to many people who have hurt, maimed, threatened, murdered – and they fall into categories. They are either suffering from a mental illness (in actuality the vast majority of them have an illness of some type,) or they just feel the need to hurt, because that makes them feel less in pain… or they are like Sam, gutless. They pick on things which cant hurt them. They kill people or animals which cant hurt them back. That's what Sam is. That's where I would place him anyway. He's a coward. So am I actually going to have to keep my eye on him? I don't think so. I don't think he'd risk hurting me, and not because I might hurt him back again… and he knows I can do that… but because Floyd will hurt him. Do I trust Sam? No. I don't trust him. Do I accept his apology? I cannot, because it's not said with feeling. It's empty and it's dull. Will things ever change? I don't think Sam is capable of change. I think that his hatred is so well ingrained that it's not possible. He's damaged beyond repair. I cant help him. I'm not a professional. I'm just taking it by what I can see in his body language and in the way he talks and of course in the way he's looking at me.

He's a nice looking _boy_, he's intelligent, but he's also obsessed with how he looks to a ridiculous degree which Floyd just encourages. It doesn't seem to matter how stupid Sam looks, or what he dresses in, Floyd will smile at him and pull… pull Sam close… he'll tell him he looks great… like an over indulgent parent and if that's all it was… a parent coming to terms with the fact that his son occasionally looks like something from a freak show, then I would understand it maybe? I don't know. But it would be easier to take than knowing that it isn't parental love he's feeling. It's something else entirely. It's something sickening.

What it amounts to is that I feel that Sam is dragging Floyd down. He's making him into something he never was before.

Words said by Joel sick in my head. Didn't he call Floyd a _paedophile_?

I know he did. And I also know I defended Floyd on that, but now I can see Floyd's eyes drifting over Sam and I can _see_ where they rest and I can see for myself that Sam looks not much older than fourteen, though I _know_ that's not the case! Does it matter? Does it matter what he looks like? How old he looks?

Of course it matters!

What if Sam's not around one day? Will Floyd go searching for a replacement where he has no right to search? It's not something I can offer him… I've grown. I'm not that kid Floyd initially introduced himself to. I'm not the kid who accepted that _friendly_ kiss from him.

I think I might have over thought this situation.

I hope to god I have.

But it's Sam, Floyd is still looking at… _Look at me!_ I want to scream it at him and take him by the shoulders and shake him and force him to take notice of what's going on here.

What _is_ going on here? Is Floyd really moving from me to Sam or is it something Sam is doing… with his rose scented skin and sideways glances?

Floyd's POV.

We are together again!

Everyone is happy.

It's like a fucking miracle. Sam has apologised. Spencer has accepted it and apologised and Sam has accepted it.

At last we can get on with life and settle.

Be a family.

Go to Disney Land.

Eat Tacos and mow the lawn. Isn't that what everyone wants?

I'll buy Sam a horse! We will live on a fucking ranch! He can have a pink fucking cowboy hat!

Spencer… he's looking miserable even though he's smiling. I can see the way he's looking at Sam though. I can see those shifty eyes. Spencer is eyeing up Sam like he's a roast fucking dinner! For the love of fucking hell. Sam's not Spencer's. He best remove that dirty little idea from his head now. Right now. Don't want to have to hit him before I've even licked his ear lobe.

But Sam… Damn he smells wonderful when he's fresh out of the tub. He is pouring out his pheromones like a whore on heat, and I expect that's exactly what he is! But that smell…

Oh right, Spencer smells fucking good too! Don't misunderstand me. Spencer is the bloke you want to have at home cooking supper, and cleaning house. If he was a girl, he'd be the one you'd want to start a family with. He's super fantastic! And he has such a vulnerability about him, even if he did start to hit back. Even if he walked out and left me and caused me such intense pain that I had to top myself (maybe there were other reasons too, but I'm using that one for now… don't argue with me over it OK?) Even through all of the shit with Hotchner and Joel… Yup… I'd settle down with Spence. Spend the rest of my life with him.

But –

I'd still want to fuck Sam.

But –

You see the difference?

I like whores.

I pay money to fuck. That doesn't make me a bad person. I never go back to the same one twice. Not even Joel. Sure I had him once, but I had Marty too… it means nothing.

Surely if you look at it through sane eyes, and not ones clouded with jealousy and hate, surely it's better to keep my dick for Sam and stop going with the likes of Joel, Marty, Jon, Steve, Frank, Bobby, Iain, Rory, Kev, Jezza, and all the others who've had the pleasure of pleasing me.

I'm right.

It's something Spencer is just going to have to learn to live with. He'll get used to it. I cant help it if I like what Sam has on offer can I? And there are a few things which Sam loves me to do to him and Spencer doesn't like. Why the fuck should I go without? Why?

In the meantime we are happy!

Aren't we?

o-o-o

'Group hugs!' Floyd sounded happy. He put his arms out to enwrap them around his boys. Sam moved in quickly, pressing himself against Floyd's front and demanding the hugs for himself. One of his eyes was almost as good as it had always been and not surprisingly the other was not doing much at all, apart from keep sneaking over to stare at his own nose. Spencer moved towards Floyd slowly. Not because he didn't want to be near to Floyd, but more that Sam seemed to be rubbing against Floyd like he was a dog. Which Spencer supposed Sam was. There was a twitch of a smile of Spencer's face as Floyd reached over and grabbed him by the dirty torn shirt he still had wrapped around his middle. 'Hugs.' He insisted. 'Sam…?' A gentle push on Sam's shoulder to give room for them all to show their undivided love.

Spencer felt Floyd's hand on his back and he also felt Sam's there. One hand pressing close and comforting and the other barely touching his skin. It really was all he needed to know. His breath came out in a long frustrated sigh. If Sam couldn't even do this one thing and pretend then there really wasn't much hope that they were going to last long as three people.

'We need to sit and talk.' Spencer took a step back away from them. 'Until we have discussed everything and been honest with each other then this isn't going to work.'

Floyd put an arm over Sam's shoulder and gave Spencer his raised eyebrow treatment. He didn't have to ask the question, it was all there written over Floyd's face. _Now what's the fucking problem?_ And it was loud and clear.

Spencer looked over at the very elaborate tent which was pitched in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by the strange darkness. It reminded Spencer of a bad movie, where though all the characters are meant to be in pitch blackness they can still see each other perfectly well. The light came from everywhere and nowhere. It was there and not there at the same time. 'Can we sit in there and talk?'

In Floyd's mind there was nothing to discuss. Everything was wonderful. He had his boys. There was nothing to get in the way. No missions or deals to have to make or partake in. They could relax and just be one with each other. Floyd now looked at Sam who he could see in profile and then at Spencer who was looking off towards the tent and then he looked down at his own feet. 'You wanted to be with me.' Floyd said. 'You spoke your words clearly. You wanted this.' He gestured with his free hand at himself and then at Sam. 'You cant now go back on it Spencer. I never forced you into this.'

Spencer didnt want to start an argument. He didn't want to be the one to cause the trouble even if in his mind it was Sam who was the problem. He pressed his lips together and tucked his hair behind his ears. 'OK. If that's what you really believe then we'll leave it like that.' Spencer turned away from them both and walked towards the tent.

'Well what was that all about?' Sam muttered. He too pushed his hair behind his ears and then gave Floyd a coy half smile.

Floyd wasn't looking at Sam though. He had his eyes closed, trying not to fly into a rage and drag Spencer back to where he wanted him. At his side. Obedient. Knowing his place. 'Shut the fuck up Sam.' He hissed. 'Go play with yourself for a while. I think I need to talk to Spence about stuff.'

'Oh he's just sulking. Leave him alone long enough and he'll find a dick to stuff him. He's not loyal to you, Floyd. You should know that by now. It just takes one little upset and he's off finding it someplace else.' Sam moved back in close to Floyd and resumed rubbing his hot needy self against him.

A hand rested on each of Sam's shoulders. 'Not now.' A small push back. 'Go find a skateboard or play Mumblety-peg and leave us be for an hour or two.'

The look on Sam's face fell from one of slight smugness to something which Floyd took as disappointment and Sam felt was total despair! 'Well I don't have a fucking skateboard or a knife.'

'Then play with your dick. I need some time alone with Spencer. Please.' He leaned towards Sam and gave him a kiss on the nose. A kiss on the mouth… a toe curling body rubbing groaning lip crushing needy kiss, but it was over almost as soon as it started. 'Not now.' Floyd ran a hand over the side of Sam's face. 'You are really quite wonton.' Now a thumb drifted over Sam's bottom lip. 'I'll have a bit of you later, but for now I need to talk to Spencer. He's not happy. I want my boys to be happy.'

'I'm not over the moon either.' Sam lowered his voice. 'Why does he have to be here? Why cant I just have you all to myself?'

Floyd shook his head and looked at Spencer's disappearing back. 'Because my needs are so fucking immense that you don't satisfy me. You're not enough.'

'You're such a wanker sometimes.' Sam spat at him. 'Fine, I'll go find something to do, but don't be surprised if I wander off and find something which will satisfy _me_, cos you sure as a fuck in a hay loft don't!'

Floyd opened his mouth to wish Sam good luck finding a nice skateboard but decided not to. He _did_ want to keep the peace. As much as he also wanted to grind Sam into the ground… in a physical and biblical sense, he also wanted his boys to be happy. It was no fun when they were tearing into each other all the time. The idea of housing them separately came back to Floyd. Have Spencer somewhere as the good house wife one side of town and have Sam as the slut on the other side of town. It would be almost perfect. Perfection would be for this stupid jealousy to end. He gave Sam a pat on the arse as he walked away and then turned to look at the tent again. Spencer was sitting with his back to them. Had he seen the kiss? Floyd thought that he probably had.

He walked slowly towards that pale back. Not because he didn't want to run and pounce on Spencer and rip off this remaining clothes and give him a jolly good seeing to, but because his leg hurt like fucking in the Sahara on a windy day, (A act which though at the time had been fun… he would never repeat. Young Arab boys were a damned delight! But sand in every possible crease in your skin wasn't.)

Spencer looked up when Floyd sat down with a groan next to him. He knew it was Floyd's leg bothering him. He could see by the way he was rubbing at the place Taki had sliced him with the sword. He didn't say anything though. It was a fine line between showing that you care about something and making Floyd feel that he was less than perfect. He didn't have to ask if Sam was there. He didn't have to look. There was no bitching going on and so Sam must have gone off somewhere else. 'You wanted to talk?' Floyd moved so that he was sitting on a cushion facing Spencer. He reached out and took his hands. 'You know I'd do anything for you.'

Reid gave Floyd an eyebrow response. 'I know.' It was a lie but this _relationship_ seemed to be based on lies. What difference did one more make? Spencer didn't like it. It was as though being with Floyd for so long had sullied his own self respect. If indeed he'd ever really had any.

'So what was it you wanted to talk about so urgently?' Floyd's fingers moved slowly over the back of Spencer's hands giving him a slow almost loving massage.

'I'm not always the best with words.' Spencer muttered. 'But there's something – something bothering me and I don't want to have to ask it, because I shouldn't have to.' Damn, he could feel that prickle of impending tears behind his eyes. He wanted to rub at them and make it go away, but Floyd still had hold of his hands. He blinked a few times and hoped it would stop.

'Is it about Sam?'

Spencer pulled a face and shook his head. 'In a way it is… but not entirely.' He didn't want to have this discussion with Floyd now, but he'd started it and needed to carry on. If he didn't ask here and now, he never would and that niggling word would carry on eating away at him. 'It's something Joel said. Well not just him… but he made me think.'

'Joel?' Floyd let go of Spencer's betraying hands and wiped them on the knees of his jeans. 'Joel? That fuck? That cunt? What the hell did he say that's upsetting you now? He's gone. He wont bother you again…'

But Spencer waved a dismissive hand at Floyd. 'Let me try to get this all in the right order in my head.' He watched the way Floyd was rubbing at his hands as though to remove all trace of Spencer from them. 'Damnit, I don't know how to ask!'

'Did he accuse me of something? The dick sucking? Is that it? I had him once Spencer. Once. I sucked him off just the once is all. I'd swear on that. I promise you that. There was nothing in it other than a bit of relief. He wasn't even all that impressive, but I guess you know that. But you know I go out and do stuff, why's that bothering you?'

Spencer said nothing. He just looked at Floyd and now those damned tears had arrived and Floyd was going out of focus. 'Thank you for your honesty.' He now rubbed at his eyes, but it was too late, 'but that wasn't actually what I was going to ask.'

Floyd wiped a tear off Spencer's face. 'Now what? What the fuck? Don't you start snotting up on me. It's bad enough when Sam does it.'

'And there we are.' Spencer pushed Floyd's hands away from him. 'Sam.'

'This fucking mess is over Sam? You wanted Sam. You said you forgave him! You said you wanted to be with the both of us! I got you what you wanted! I'd give you anything you ask for! You know that! What the fuck did you ask for Sam back for if you didn't mean it?'

Spencer put a hand on Floyd's leg. 'It's not Sam as such, though he's part of it.'

'Just fucking say what's bothering you! I'm tired of working my way through all your fucking words! Just tell me!'

'Do you prefer children over men?' There he'd said it. He'd asked.

Floyd pushed Spencer's hand off him and stood. The pain in his leg forgotten. Everything forgotten except for what Spencer was implying. 'You mean fucking kids? You're asking me if I fuck kids? What in the name of…' He took a few steps backwards. 'No! Fuck NO! What the hell made you even consider such a thing!'

'Sam is…'

'Sam is a fucking demon! He's not human let alone a child! You stupid or something? Joel put this shit into your head? This is beyond the pale Spencer. I've heard some shit… I've been accused of crap before but this? You asking me that? How long have you known me? How fucking long! You should know!'

'Since I was a child.' Spencer kept his eyes on the cushion Floyd had been sitting on.

'And I fucked you when you were a child? Did I? Did I do any one fucking sexual thing to you? Name me one damned thing!'

Spencer shook his head. 'You…'

'No! Fucking hell Spencer.' He suddenly knelt down on the cushion Spencer was staring at. 'I kissed you. I kissed you on your dimple when you were twelve?' There was no answer. 'You think I did more? You think I touched you, groomed you? Manipulated you? You really believe what Hotchner has always thought? You really think I did that?'

Spencer looked up at Floyd. 'I never said that. It's just that Sam has the body of a teenager and the mind of a child.'

Floyd pulled a smoke out of his pocket and slipped a box of matches out of his breast pocket. 'You made the comment that Sam appears to be around fourteen. Sometimes he looks a bit older…'

'Wait.' Spencer pulled the red pack out of his pocket. 'Here.' He placed it on Floyd's knee.

As Floyd pulled off the ribbon and unfolded the red tissue paper Spencer sat in silence. 'My lighter.' Floyd looked up and smiled. 'Thanks babes.' He flicked it and watched the flame burn brightly… 'Where I come from, Spencer, the average age to lose your virginity is around the fourteen mark. That means that some go earlier, some later, but fourteen is average. There's nothing wrong with that. That's a damned good age actually.' He blew smoke over towards Spencer. 'Someone somewhere gave a law and that law stated a legal age. That doesn't mean that it's like that everywhere, you know? The fucking country you come from doesn't rule the world. It cant dictate to everyone. So maybe in your country that's illegal. Maybe where I come from it's not. It doesn't mean I like to fuck kids and as I said, Sam is a helluva lot older than he looks.'

Spencer blinked at the smoke. 'Am I getting too old for you, Floyd?'

Deep long drags on his cheroot now as he thought that question over in his head. It was a good question too. A very good one. One which Floyd was uncertain how to answer. 'No.' He finally hissed out between his teeth which were clamped around his cheroot. 'You're perfect. You are beautiful. You are a marvellous and awesome being. Babes… that thing on your back.'

Spencer tried to look over his own shoulder and failed, but he turned back to Floyd and nodded.

'Well… that makes you perfect forever.' Floyd grinned at him.

'So if I asked you and if I said it would make me happy, would you get rid of Sam?'

'Because I love him? Because I have feelings for him?' There was a small nod from Spencer. 'Would I ask you to get rid of your mother?'

'I don't have sex with my mother!'

'Hotchner then…' Floyd raised an eyebrow at Spencer and flicked ash at him.

'Would you?'

Floyd stood again and this time walked over to the entrance of the tent. He looked over the boring dark nothingness. Would he get rid of Sam to make Spencer happy? 'If I could find us the perfect situation I would. You know that. I would sort it. I've tried so many times that I've forgotten. I've tried the cabin the woods, the cottage at the beach, the big bland house, the big fancy thing, the little cramped thing… I've tried road trips, taking you overseas… you don't like any of it. You're never fucking satisfied. Sam being around has naught to do with it Spence. You want out?'

Spencer was standing at Floyd's side in a flash. A look of horror on his face. 'Out? I just killed myself for you! Why on earth would I now want out of it? I just asked you, would you get rid of Sam if I asked you to?'

Floyd turned and looked at Spencer. 'Spence… for my life… really. No… don't ask me that.'

'Then you wouldn't?'

'Tell you what I advice you do Spencer. I advice that you take the next hour or so to sit and talk to Sam. That's the only way we're ever going to resolve shit. I need you. I need Sam. I need us together.'

Spencer gave Floyd a kiss on the ear. 'Thank you.'

'For what?' Floyd felt like screaming.

'For being honest with me for once. For letting me know where I stand. Thank you.' He smiled at Floyd. 'But that kiss on my dimple when I was twelve…'

'I still dream of that.' Floyd commented.

'So do I.' Spencer returned.

'Can I kiss it again, now?'

Spencer's hands went to the waistband of his ratty torn cords. 'Later… You take something for that leg of yours so when Sam and I return you're able to cope with us both.'


	25. Chapter 25

25

Sam knew that it was Spencer walking in his direction. He was going to just sit and pretend he didn't know or care but instead thought it more amusing to put his hands over his face in a protective gesture. He peeped out from between his fingers as he sensed that Spencer had sat down in front of him. At first neither of them spoke. Sam was still half way through a serious sulking session and wanted to be left alone… at least not interrupted by the Bitch Dr. And Spencer could think of a thousand places he'd rather be than sat there looking at Sam peering back at him. It was not the best situation either of them could think of.

'We have to decide what's going to happen.' Spencer finally spoke. Though he'd already made his decision. It was persuading Sam to agree which might be the problem.

Sam's hands moved from his face and dropped to his lap. 'Happen? You're going to fuck off back where you came from, that's what's going to happen.' He spoke in a low growl of a voice which Spencer thought more childish than threatening.

'He's playing us.' Spencer gestured over his shoulder. 'I don't care what he says of thinks he wants because he thrives on seeing us fight. He loves it when you bitch and I defend. It's a game to him.'

Sam gave Spencer the narrow eyed treatment. 'I hate you. I've tried to like you and I've tried to convince myself that I don't hate you, but there's no other way to describe it. I would happily see you dead.' Now Sam made a hissing sound from between his teeth. 'But he's going to slaughter me if I kill you. And anyway, you gone killed yourself any way.'

'Floyd can sniff out a lie.' Spencer started to say.

'Usually. He's not really been concentrating recently has he? He'd know how much I loath you if he was. He'd not have that stupid smile on his face because he'd be able to tell that I would rather eat shit than have to be nice to you.'

'He's playing us.' Spencer said again. 'And we need to play him back.'

Sam raised an eyebrow at this. 'What exactly are you suggesting? You want to fuck me?'

There was a small snort of a laugh from Spencer. 'Sam really, no offence, but you are the last person I would want to bed with. Really you are.'

'Reasons? Give me reasons.' Sam stood. 'Come on, tell me what part of me isn't fantastic and then I'll consider what you've said. But until you give me a reason I'm going to assume that you came out here to fuck me.'

Spencer didn't bother standing. He didn't even bother looking up at Sam. 'Your attitude stinks. You are too short, too thin, I don't like the shape of your mouth, you a are drug and alcohol abuser, you are immature, infantile… I would go that far… you are too young. You are an imperfect child. You need counselling to help you to recover from the horrors you've suffered. I pity you. I feel sorry for you. I understand why you are like you are. I think you will grow – if that were possible – to be a serial killer who doesn't even have the sense to commit his crimes in a place where they have no death penalty. You would die by lethal injection, or be lynched or…'

'Oh you're nice, you are.' Sam sat back down again. 'Floyd likes us to stay skinny. Haven't you noticed your own scrawny body recently? He likes his fucks to too look under developed.'

'… but I think I almost understand you, but I don't actually like you.' Spencer finished what he was saying. 'However you don't need to like who you are working alongside to have a good business relationship with someone. You can really hate the work ethics of another person but yet still somehow fit together well as a partnership. This I think is how we are going to have to deal with this. As a business. I don't have to like you, and you don't have to like me, but to get any peace we need to please and pleasure Floyd.'

Sam actually looked vaguely interested in this idea. He had no idea what Spencer was on about but he was still sort of interested. However there were far more pressing things on his mind. 'You know there's nothing wrong with my height and there's absolutely nothing wrong with the shape of my mouth! It's a great mouth, but apart from that I'm fucking drop dead gorgeous. Floyd cant keep his hands off me.'

'Maybe if you didn't rub yourself on him like a desperate animal he would be more willing to accept your requests.' Spencer remarked. 'There is nothing nice about desperation.'

'No. You are right. There is nothing nice about it. So why are you here if you're not desperate to sort me out?'

Spencer shook his head. 'I'm not. Not to sort you out Sam, but you infiltrated my relationship with Floyd. You've stomped your way in and dug in your hooks and now I don't think I'm going to be able to get rid of you. So we are going to have to learn to play Floyd at his own game.'

'But my nose is OK?'

'When it's not dripping or red… yes. It's passable. Can we please get on with this so that we can relax and make the man who we both profess to love, happy?'

'Then what is it you want? What can I possibly do? I'm a dirty junky drunk runt with a deformed mouth who throws childish tantrums. How the hell could I help and why would I _want_ to help?'

Spencer moved in a bit closer to Sam. The smell of roses was lovely… it wafted up Spencer's nose and into his brain, calming and comforting his mind. It made his heart leap and blood suddenly flow to all of the wrong places. 'Sam… help me.'

This was something new to Sam. Spencer requesting help? But it wasn't just that… there was an odd look in Spencer's eyes. Almost like he was getting too _hot_. Sam flinched back when Spencer raised a hand, but it just rested on the side of Sam's face, much like Floyd had rested his there not so long ago. 'Whatever it is your body is throwing out at me, you must stop. Please Sam. This is not going to work if you do this.'

Sam shrugged. As far as he was aware he wasn't doing anything. Just oozing with nice smells. 'Stop pawing me. Save it for Floyd. I'm not interesting in what you have to offer, unless that offer is money. Then I'm all yours. Do with me as you will sweet lover man… come over my face… up my arse… let me lick your soft juicy places and…'

'I've no money, so you may as well stop with the sales talk. What we need to do is go and show Floyd that… well…'

Sam's face lit up. 'You're surely not suggesting what I think you are. Not sweet, delicious, innocent Spencer! Surely not!' But Sam thought whatever idea he was brewing in his own head was brilliant! Whether it was the same idea which Spencer had didn't matter. 'But it would sort of iron out things don't you think? It will show each of us that we are both needed and they'll be absolutely no need to try to kill each other afterwards. You, Spencer are a fucking genius, I just never thought I'd hear you say something like that.'

'As I said, desperation is never a nice thing, and I'm desperate. I wanted to be with you both. I wanted this and now I've got what I wanted I need to make sure I can keep it. I'm not as innocent as you might want to think.'

'You've had threesome's before?' Sam's eyes went wide when Spencer nodded. 'And you enjoyed it? You liked it? Was it backroom fucking or some hotel?' Sam hunkered down again. 'Tell me all about it. I need every detail. We need to decide who is going to give and who will receive. We will be over Floyd like a fucking leach and he wont know what's hit him! But I do have to ask why you want to do this with me.'

Spencer stood up and looked over at the huge house sized tent. It had an odd reddish glow around the front of it where the sides were pulled up, letting in the light from the fire and reflecting off the red and orange cushions and bottles. 'Because I would do anything to please him, Sam. Anything. I want to make him happy and I don't think that he is right now. He's in pain and he's feeling a bit lost don't you think?'

'So you gonna fuck me?'

'No.'

'You gonna do what then? Fuck Floyd?'

Spencer wrapped an arm over Sam's shoulder and spoke quietly into his ear.

o-o-o

Floyd watched the pair of them return with interest. He was kneeling and sipping from a small blue bottle. Spencer hunkered down in front of Floyd and gave him a small kiss on the nose. 'I think I need to look at your leg.' He removed the bottle from Floyd's hand and tossed it aside.

'My leg?' Floyd's hand went to his thigh and shook his head slowly. 'Nothing to see Babes.' He looked behind him to see what Sam was doing. He appeared to be re-arranging the cushions, but he looked quickly back at Spencer when he felt fingers on his belt. 'What you doing?'

'I want to see your leg. Until I see what's wrong I'm not going to stop nagging you, so you may as well get it over with now. If there's nothing to see then what's the problem with showing me?'

'It's just where…' He placed a hand over the hand which had expertly unbuckled his belt and was now moving down popping buttons open. '… where Taki got me… it's OK.'

'Then drop your pants and show me. I've not done what I've done just so you can die on me.'

And thumbs were slipping behind the fabric of Floyd's jeans and pulling downwards. 'Fine… fine… look then.' He went to stand, but hands belonging to someone behind him pressed down on his shoulders.

'No need to stand.' Sam said as he assisted in pushing the dark denim further down.

Spencer at first attempted to ignore the fact that Sam was doing something behind Floyd. He could see those slim pale finger digging into Floyd's shoulders and he could see the look on Floyd's face, but that look changed as Spencer moved in and kneeling up demanded something from Floyd for himself. He put hands on Floyd's head and wound hair around his fingers.

It might have crossed Floyd's mind at some point that this was strange. It might have crossed his mind that his was something he'd never have guessed would ever happen, but there it was, happening. Both of his boys… _co-operating_ as it were, in a way which made any pain in Floyd's leg disappear. Actually the whole world disappeared and he would have screamed with delight had not some of that delight been the effective gagging he received via Spencer. There was a feeling that he was going to lose control. Totally lose all control and bite and scratch and punch and scream, but he managed to keep that back, at least for now…

Sam breathed hot greedy breaths on Floyd's neck as he showed Floyd just how much he'd learnt from him. One hand wrapped around Floyd's middle pulling him back tighter and the other giving relief to Floyd.

Spencer thought he was going to fall over backwards and ruin the whole adventure but he kept where he was and felt Floyd's hands on his back, on his arse… investigating and then pulling Spencer forwards as he moved back to keep in rhythm with Sam.

In one glorious and well timed shudder they seemed to finish within seconds of each other. Spencer thought it was Floyd who lost it first, closely followed by himself and then Sam howling at the demons and clawing at every available bit of skin Floyd had exposed. Spencer thought that his own arse was ripped to shreds and would have trouble sitting on a bike for a few days. Floyd seemed to just collapse sideways as Sam flopped back onto the cushions he'd lain out ready.

'My dearest god…' Floyd muttered, licked his lips and then scrabbled for a post coital smoke. Spencer took it from his hand before he could put it between his lips and sat back carefully. He needed to remind Floyd to cut his fingernails.

There were so many questions Floyd wanted to ask. Questions like: _What the hell was that_? And: _How_ _did you know to do that_? And: _Oh I think I'm cured of all ills forever _and obviously: _Sam _and_ Spence_? What he said was a mumbled garble of nothing. Words seemed to form in his brain and then just collapse and become nothing when they passed over his teeth and lips.

Spencer lay back and with one hand smoked the cheroot and with the other he re-adjusted his clothing. Once he'd gotten used to the idea that it was Sam and not some twink stranger it hadn't been too bad. He grinned around the cheroot. _Not too bad?_ It had actually been a hell of a lot better than that! Spencer glanced over at Sam who had his pants down around his knees and was just laying on his back with a glazed look on his face and drool running down the side of his face. Had Spencer not been able to see the rise and fall of that sunken chest he'd have thought Sam had screwed himself to death. A look at Floyd saw the man who had been the _mark_ in this case laying also on his back with a cheroot slowly burning down in the corner of his mouth. Spencer moved… but not to Floyd. He moved over and placed a hand on Sam's sticky sweaty stomach. He didn't say anything, and he didn't think he could say anything and as Sam still seemed to be gazing off into dreamland, Spencer lay on the cushions next to him. Floyd wanted them to get along with each other? Well… was that just not proof that they could compromise and do what Floyd wants?

o-o-o

The rutting session which Spencer hoped would stop the bitching sent the three of them into a long sleep. Spencer's was full of snippets of odd partial memories of things from the past. Sam's was a dream about everlasting and beautiful love. Floyd's was a bit of a nightmare.

He dreamed that his boys ran off with each other and left him alone in the cold dark wastes of somewhere in a Nordic country. The weird lights played in the sky behind him and his Spencer and his Sam were going _hup hup go faster, go faster_! And they slapped the reins and dogs ran off dragging a sled behind them… with Spencer and Sam screwing each other and waving goodbye and singing mmmbop… and moving away past the tall ever green trees and away… In his dream he wrapped his arms tightly around himself and tried to walk, but his legs were broken, or not working and he fell on his face. He clawed at the snow which was stopping him from breathing and trying to drag his useless body over the cold wastes to get his boys back…

'Floyd!' Someone was shaking him.

'What's wrong with him… Shit… is he crying?'

'Floyd!' It was Spencer and Spencer was rolling him onto his back and patting him on the side of the face. 'Wake up… you're having a nightmare…'

Floyd's eyes snapped open. He grabbed Spencer's hair and pulled him forward. Stupidly Spencer thought it was for a kiss and smiled at Floyd's sweaty face. 'Don't… just don't you ever fucking do that.'

'Do what? You were having a nightmare. I just woke you.'

'Don't go on a sled being pulled by dogs. Don't… if you do, I think my legs will break.'

Spencer moved back onto his hunkers. 'Weird dream?'

'You don't know the half of it, but just don't do that huh? Would really piss me of if I had to drag myself half way across Norway just so that I could slaughter you in a fury filled rage. Don't ask. Northern lights can be seen in other places. Norway is officially off our holiday location list.' Floyd looked over at Sam and put a hand out for him. 'You too. Goes for the pair of you… but now I'm thinking…'

'Please don't think, Floyd. It gives you nose bleeds.' Sam said as he grabbed hold of Floyd's hand. 'So any decisions on what's going to happen next, cos much as I love living in this black hole and as much as I adore being in this very elaborate tent thing… I'd rather have bricks around me and a toilet I didn't think was going to bite my arse off when I sat on it.'

'It's something we need to talk about, but firstly I need coffee.' He looked down at his lap. 'And I need to get dressed properly again.' He thought about saying _thank you_ but it felt too late to say anything now. He also wanted to ask if Spencer and Sam had been screwing behind his back, but again thought it was maybe the wrong time to ask. It was something he kept there in the forefront of his mind though.

They sat in a circle of three and nibbled on fruit and drank very strong coffee. There was for the first time in such a long while, no bitching, no sniping and there was also no snot and tears. It was pure joy. It was how life should always be.

'Now you've got me thinking that I'd only every possibly be happy if we went to Norway.' Sam suddenly said as he sipped on his coffee.

Floyd ignored him. He was trying to wind him up and today it just wasnt going to work. 'Spencer? Any ideas? Anywhere in the world… anywhere but Norway or Vegas. I think those two places should be avoided.'

Spencer shrugged. 'Somewhere with good medical care.' It seemed sort of important.

'A desert island!' Sam piped up. 'I envision a cove with high cliffs behind us in a crescent shape and a long shallow sea in front of us. A brilliant blue which hurts your eyes to look at if you stare at it for too long. I can see boats which come in and sell – or give food, but there's water on the island which we can pump to the small house which is half way up the cliff and sitting there like it's been magically glued to the rock but is actually carved out of the cliff face. There are no pirates, no dangerous animals, lots of fresh food to hunt and not another person to be seen except for on the days they arrive with our food.'

'Where is this place?' Floyd looked mildly interested.

'No fucking idea, but wouldn't it be lovely? Just us.'

'Fantasy.' Spencer said. 'I'd like to stay in The States if that's fine with you. My mother…'

'Muah…' Sam let out a moan. 'What about if Floyd decides?'

Spencer spat coffee back out of his mouth and into his mug. Some dripped out of his nose and he then proceeded to have a long coughing fit. Floyd took the coffee from Spencer's hands and looked into the liquid half expecting something nasty to be there. 'You don't want me to decide?' He placed the mug to the side assuming that Spencer had finished with it now he'd blown his nose into the drink.

'Floyd, for all I care I would stay here forever. As long as I'm with you…'

'And me.' Sam interjected.

'As long as I'm with the pair of you I don't mind.'

'Good…' Floyd looked at Sam, but took Spencer's hand. '… Because I was thinking of doing something different for a change, but it would be up to _The Big Them_ as to whether Sam will be permitted to.'

'Do what? Go where? What're you thinking?'

'Was thinking of hanging.' Sam's hand went to his neck, but Floyd ignored him and carried on. 'I feel that we need to be somewhere fresh and new. Away from the old chains.'

'Hanging what, in particular?' Spencer whispered.

'The best fuck I've ever had… sorry Spencer but it's true… was once many fucking centuries ago when I was at a hanging. They strung the villains up and the crowd had gathered and some young rake who knew me well was there in front of me. I put an arm around him and slipped my hand down his breaches. He was as hard as I was. I gave him relief and then we swapped places. And damnit… that was fucking wonderful… watching those men struggle and then twitch and swing and sway… It's the best… And I want you both to experience something that fine.'

Spencer didn't look so sure about this proclamation. Maybe the three way had not been the brilliant idea he'd thought it had been, but Sam was grinning like a loon. 'Wow…' He prodded Floyd on the arm. '…you never told me that before.'


	26. Chapter 26

26

He waited in silent anticipation and with a glorious feeling of _I know what I want!_ He watched his boys fall asleep and listened to Spencer's heavy contented breaths and to Sam's small snores and pulling on a flat topped wide brimmed hat he left to have discussions with the ones who could and hopefully _would_ complete his happiness.

Floyd, forever delusional about his importance, was not bothered that he'd failed in virtually ever task he was set. It didn't occur to him that he'd wasted a lifetime just sitting on his backside sulking and waiting for Spencer and Sam to come back to him. He had forgotten (for now) about his little puppy grooming job he'd taken on with jack. Nothing mattered. Floyd was happy. Everyone should see that and notice how much nicer he was when things were going his way and allow that to continue.

His leg was hurting but not terribly so. There was a sweet taste of honey and Spencer in his mouth… A feeling that of such great joy in his heart that he was of absolutely no doubt that his requests (demands) would be met with smiling fangs and drooling excited tongues. His self absorbed over confidence wasn't damaged as he was told that they had time _now_ to talk to him and set matters straight with him.

'I have a…' He stood and spoke, forgetting to get on his knees; forgetting to salute his master and forgetting to avert his eyes.

'You dare speak before we command you to?'

For nearly a full minute Floyd just stood staring out at the many red eyes glowing back at him. He didn't answer. He didn't do anything but try to pull his mind away from _his boys_ and the overwhelming love (greed) he felt for them. The salute was slow to arrive and maybe his hand was shaking slightly as he tapped the side of his forehead with the side of his hand. He was slow getting onto one knee too. Both knees wasn't going to happen, not unless there was a sexual favour on offer. He looked down at the black floor and with his hat still in place he raised a slight contemptuous eyebrow at the eyes. Not that they saw. But he had a feeling that they knew anyway.

'Remove your hat.' A voice next to him spoke and tore the thing from his head and tossed it aside. Floyd's eyes flicked to where it had landed. It was a nice hat. He would like to take it with him wherever they sent him.

'My apologies.' He muttered, not feeling even slightly apologetic.

And for many two hours that's where he stayed, in silence, doing nothing but waiting for them to give him permission to speak. He was gasping for a smoke. He would have loved a drink. He wanted to change knees because his leg was beginning to cramp, but still he stayed and sung songs in his head to pass the time. Songs of battle lust and blood and victory.

Eventually they came back to him. They asked what it was he wanted and Floyd explained how he had done as asked and recovered his boys in tact and full health and how they were all going to get along just fine.

'And I know that a few decades down there are nothing to you. You can turn the time back and forth as you wish, so I was thinking that just a short while of pleasure for myself wouldn't be too much to ask.'

There was complete silence as they considered – (picked themselves off the floor from the laugh they'd just had.)

'Flanders you should keep your humour for your boys. This is serious business we are about to discuss. It's not something to joke about.'

Floyd peeped out from under his hair which had fallen over his face. He'd not been joking. He'd been deadly serious. This wasn't good. Oh this really wasn't very good at all. 'I would like to give my boys…'

'Nothing you have is yours.' The reminded him. 'The money you freely throw around and spend like it means nothing, is not yours. The life you have and throw around as though it means nothing to you, that too is not yours. You Flanders amuse us, but only to a degree. We have discussed your history and we have listened to what you want. If that is truly what you desire then you will fight for it.'

Floyd now looked up at them and pushed his hair off his face. 'Fight? I'm no coward as you know, but fight in what manner?'

'We want to see you scrabbling in filth. We want to see you panic and run for your life. We think it's about time you ceased this life you have, this lazy complacent life and actually fought for what you want.'

'I'm far from lazy. I am not complacent.'

'Yet you wanted a lagoon with a flushing toilet? Get out of here Flanders. When we have a job for you we will call you forwards. You and your dogs. Until then you'll be wise to get out of here and curl up in your tent. Maybe think of some good survival techniques. Revise you herbal remedy knowledge. Get the hell out of here. Conversation is over for now. Prepare though, Flanders. I warn you. Prepare… and make sure you prepare you dogs for war, or you will lose them as surely as you will take this happy news out on them.'

The eyes all blinked as one… and then disappeared as one. A soft but sulphurous breeze swept Floyd's hair back off his face and made his hat circle and rise to the air. He caught it and stuck it back on his head and stayed kneeling. Now that he had the chance to leave, he didn't think he wanted to. Slowly though he eventually walked back over the blackness to his sleeping companions.

Would he prepare them? Could he prepare them? Had he just sentenced them all to a nasty death on a battle field fighting for something which didn't concern them?

He'd consider things later. For now he wanted to lay down and smoke and drink and drink some more and eventually curl up as he'd been instructed and hug his boys.

It was obvious to both Spencer and Sam that something was wrong. The woke up within minutes of each other and both lay on their sides looking at Floyd's slightly hunched back as he sat at the opening of the tent. Spencer looked over at Sam who gave a small shrug and a shake of the head. He didn't now what was going on any more than Spencer did, but there was a thick atmosphere of impending doom.

Spencer thought maybe that they'd gone too far with their show of love the night before, but Sam thought that it was something else. Sam stood and gave Spencer a _get with me_ hand gesture, and the two of them walked over to Floyd and sat either side of him.

'Good morning.' Spencer said in a voice as jolly as he could muster.

Floyd turned to look at him and grabbed at his hand. He then put a hand out for Sam.

'You gonna tell us what the fuck is wrong? You didn't like what we gave you?' Sam asked.

Both Spencer and Sam felt their hands being squeezed. 'I loved it. A bit too much maybe.' He released their hands and rested them on his knees. 'You see that darkness out there? That never ending fucking darkness?' He got mutters of _yes_ from either side of him. 'Well, I think it's going to test me. I put in a request, Sam, for your lagoon, though personally it was the neck popping scenario I was after. I thought if I asked for something ridiculous I might manage to get something I could… we could… live happily with.'

Spencer's arm snaked around Floyd's waist as Sam flopped down in a heap and rested his head on Floyd's lap. 'You asked for a lagoon? For me?'

'But didn't get it – at least not yet. There were discussions, obviously. I let them know what I wanted.'

'So no lagoon? Well that sucks the big one! I was hoping for that. I guess I can wait. How long? How long are we going to have to wait?'

Floyd shook his head. 'Sam, can you still use bow? Do you practice? Spencer, hand to hand weapons? Ah… stupid question… stupid so fucking stupid!' Floyd got up from where he was sitting letting Spencer's arm fall away from him and pushing Sam away. 'There I was smug in my knowledge that I'd had this one poxy fight with Otikami and won my boys back. Fucking insanity! I've lost my damned mind!'

'You have to fight Taki again?' Spencer stood. His eyes wide in panic.

'No! Fucking hell no. He's gone. He's not a problem. It wont be him.'

'You have to fight?'

'No.' Floyd turned to Spencer and Sam… his two warriors. His dogs and his men. His boys. 'We all have to fight. Sam get practicing with something. We wont get guns. It'll be more primitive than that. Spencer… fuck… I don't know! What the hell am I going to do with you? Can you give first aid? Be a medic or something?'

Spencer was shaking his head vigorously. 'I don't know what you've got in mind, Floyd, but I'm not going to fight.'

'It's not what I've got in mind! You fucking lack wit! It's not me! It's _Them_. They told me…' But Floyd didn't finish, he gave both of his dogs a look, turned his back and walked away into the darkness.

'Well…' Spencer took a couple of steps forwards, '…what was that all about, Sam? Any ideas?'

'Yeah. Plenty of ideas and none of them very good ones. None of them involve shallow tropical water and sandy beaches. About all of them involve fighting for our fucking lives. That's if we want to be bothered. I mean I'm seriously beginning to wonder about this.' Sam turned to look at Spencer. 'You OD'd… did it hurt?'

Reid instinctively rubbed at his arm, but shook his head. 'I didn't feel pain. I felt myself dying which isn't the nicest of things, but no, there was no pain. It's not to be advised, Sam.'

'Well I'd rather that than be caught up in one of their ever lasting battles. Fucking hell. You have no idea, Spencer. You have no clue. This will tear us apart and we'll feel every little pin prick of agony. Floyd's no warrior. He does OK working for himself and squeezing in and out of trouble, but fighting along side other people? Other creatures like him? He wont succeed. We will all die. I'm too young to die! I'm too pretty! I've not done all the things I want to do yet! Spencer, go after him and make change things. Make him go back and sort it! I wont survive five fucking minutes on a battle field.' He spun on Spencer and prodded him in the chest. 'I'm not talking about guns and bombs and that sort of thing. I'm not talking of open battle fields or even abandoned blown out cities… I'm talking about getting involved in one of the wars going on in Hades. That's what Floyd's talking about. We're going to be sent down.' And that little speech was followed with tears and Sam on his knees with his head pressed to the floor and the almost haunting sound of his keening.

Spencer didn't follow Floyd. He didn't stay with Sam either. He turned his back on both of them and retreated to the tent. He wasn't turning his back on them mentally or emotionally, not yet at least. For now though he needed time to sit alone and work out what exactly Sam had been talking about and what Floyd had meant and whether Sam had gotten the wrong end of the stick entirely. He sat with his arms wrapped around his shins and his head resting on his knees and stayed that way until Floyd returned and sat down next to him with a long sigh and a present.

'Spencer. You awake?' He touched him lightly on the back of the neck. 'We have to talk about what's going on. I need you to be prepared.'

Reid turned moved a hand and rested it on the one Floyd was rubbing on the back of his neck. 'Tell me everything. Leave not one thing out, because that one thing might be the thing which kills me… and I might never be able to forgive you for that. I need complete honesty from you. Lie about how you feel about me or Sam or even how you feel about this – whatever it is? But you _must_ at least forward all the information you have so that I at least have a fighting chance of survival.' He felt the massaging hand tighten slightly. Not dangerously… but maybe a rougher touch than before.

'OK, but let me get Sam first. He doesn't know all either and now I've been given more directions myself and I know what's going to be going on, I can at least pass that onto you both. Then you _do_ need to prepare; mentally and physically.' He called out Sam's name but the hand stayed on the back of Spencer's neck. Reid heard the scuffling of Sam's feet, smelt the strong waft of roses, heard a sigh and felt the displaced air as Sam sat.

'Under the great floors which we walk on all day, light our fires on, sleep on… die on… this floor… which is not really a floor so much as a roof. It's just a huge covering disguising what's really here, or I should say, what's really there.' Floyd stabbed at the floor with a finger. 'Caverns. Monstrously vast things. Dark… hot, stinking and full of the foulest creatures… they say that it is the original home of the vampire and the place they return to when given the old heave ho from other places. There's demons, lesser demons, giant spiders, goblins, orcs… all the good old stuff from fantasy. They live in the walls, in the cracks in the floors, in the stalagmites and stalactites, in the breath of the caves. They live in the fires, in the waters, in the very essence of the place. Werewolves, giant worms – even dragons… saints… devils. That's just the things getting in our way. Once we reach the other side of that dreadful place, and that might take us years, decades, an eternity… then we have to fight the ones who are protecting the other side.' He paused and realised that he'd been digging in his fingers too hard into Spencer's neck. 'I don't expect to return. Just thought you should know. I'm not made for that shit and they know I'm not, which I suspect is why we're going.'

'Do I have to go?' Sam asked miserably. 'I don't think I'm going to like it there.'

'No flushing bogs I'm afraid. Not much of anything, but there are small settlements which struggle by somehow, but… yes you have to go. I need to get you to the other side… fight my way across and get you out the other side. Apparently that will prove my devotion.'

'And if you refuse to go?' Spencer lifted his head and looked directly into Floyd's eyes.

'Refuse to go? You make it sound as though I have a choice? I cant _refuse_. I will simply be transported to a location of their choice when they are ready. I suspect that will be when there's been enough losses for them to need more people. It's a game they play. Just another game, but this time the weapons being used are from here…'

'They will kill me?' Sam moaned.

'More importantly, Sam… they can kill _me_.' At least it was more important to Floyd. 'We need to know that we'll have each other's backs at all times. No wandering off because something looks like a better bet. There _are_ no better options. We have to be as one. Do you understand? If one of us turns coat to the other then the game ends there. It's over. Everything is over. No lagoon. No Vegas… nothing.'

o-o-o

Sam had a short bow. It was shiny black. He had a quiver of arrows on his back which rattled and reminded both Spencer and Sam of Taki and his arrows. Sam knew how to use it, but after the first few arrows shot into the inky blackness never to be seen again, he decided that it was time to start serious practice and get back in the swing of using it. Spencer was actually gobsmacked that Sam even knew how to hold a bow. _He_ for sure didn't know and this began to worry him. He could use a gun. That was what he'd been trained to use. The strange array of objects Floyd was showing him either meant nothing or were too unwieldy to use. When he threw a very sharp star shaped thing to the ground and sighed, Floyd also decided that it was time to give up on that and try a different approach.

'A medic as I suggested before, but I'll have to go through all the herbs and stuff with you.'

Spencer looked at Sam's back, saw the muscles in his shoulders and recognised that even though he'd keep insisting on it, Sam's body was a lot more mature than he would admit.

'He's doing well.' Spencer pointed out.

'He can do better. He'll have to do better. He will have to use that thing to keep himself alive. I just hope he improves, but yes, he's doing well. Now I need to find you something. A reason for the others not to cut you down at first sight.'

Spencer narrowed his eyes and looked at Floyd. 'The others? What others?'

'Well we wont be fighting alone Spencer. There's a team. They wont want to haul waste. They wont protect something if it has no worth.'

Reid slid his hands into his pockets. 'That's comforting to know. And what about you? You have worth? You wont be cut down on sight?'

Floyd frowned. 'I will have a weapon and that's something I too need to practice with. You though… here.' He took Spencer's hand and dragged him back into the tent. Over in the corner was a large travelling trunk. 'This holds the mysteries.'

'What mysteries?' Spencer ran a finger over the ancient wood.'

'I dunno. That's why it's a fucking mystery. Open it. It's not going to devour you, but if you keep giving me that look _I_ might just have to devour you… again… just open the damned box.'

Out side Spencer could hear the _thwup_ sound of Sam firing arrows into a target. He could hear Floyd talking about something to Sam who was muttering something back, but for Spencer the time was spent looking at some wonderful books. They held the answer to every ailment possible to get. His only task would be to read. He knew he'd never forget after he'd seen it once. Then he'd have to learn which plant was called what, and which mineral was what. Things seemed to have some very weird and wonderful names.

'Grass tongue.' Spencer ran his fingers over the words and then over the illustration. 'Silver Leech and Old Man's Berry Bark.' He raised an eye brow and carried on whispering the words as he read them. There were also incantations and protective chants written down and though Spencer doubted they'd do anything, he read them carefully anyway, aware that it was a phonetic translation and he'd have to check it over with Floyd later. Now there was a double _thwup_ sound which Spencer assumed was Floyd having a practice shoot too. He wondered who would be the better shot and thought probably it would be Sam, at least if his eye was working properly it would be. Though he'd never say that to Floyd. Floyd was always in too much of a hurry. Too slapdash, unless it involved cleaning floors and bathrooms and that was a skill which wasn't going to be all that much use when they entered the nightmare Floyd had described.

**a/n: Erm, this seems to be going in a very AU direction. More so that usual. Sorry about that! If you think this needs to stop then I'll stop and start something else. Love PB xox**


	27. Chapter 27

27

Spencer was getting a headache from reading in the odd light the tent produced, but he kept on going. It was hard work now that he had little bottles and packs of different things laid out in front of him as he attempted to match up what he had with what he was reading about. He was still very unhappy about the odd chants and incantations he was meant to be able to say too.

Sam had come back in complaining that his arms and shoulders hurt. He was bathed in a layer of sweat which only comes from actual physical labour. An unusual sight to be coming from Sam who smelt not of his usual overly sweet roses, but of the strong odour of man sweat. Sam had searched around whilst muttering under his breath and found a small blue bottle which he unstoppered and drank back from. He was now sleeping and Spencer assumed dreaming something which needed him to curse, as the occasional word slipped from Sam's lips.

Floyd was nowhere to be seen. Maybe he'd gone back to persuade _Them_ that this was a fool's errand. That idea made Spencer rub at his eyes with the heel of his hands and smile. If it was indeed a fool's errand then they were most likely the best people to be sent. Spencer was thirsty and beginning to get hungry, but though there were bottles and piles of stuff about he dared not drink or eat anything until he'd checked it all out with Floyd first.

'Hey.' And here he was. 'Sam sleeping?'

Spencer turned to look at the man who was dragging him further in the hell than he'd ever believed possible. 'Sleeping or drugged. I don't know.' He waved a hand in Sam's direction. 'Where've you been?'

Floyd looked like the cat who'd got the cream only to find it was laced with arsenic. 'Trying to talk them out of this decision, but it's not going to work. They've like got the deal all worked out. How's it going here? Learn anything?'

Spencer closed the book and sighed. 'Too much. I'll never be able to focus and come up with the right thing at the right time.'

Floyd took the book and flicked through the first couple of pages. 'Sure you will. It's a doddle, but you gotta look the part and you need shoes on your feet. Cant go walking around in Hell with nothing on your feet.'

'This is a fight I don't expect to come out of alive. I'm not going to co-operate if you force me into a long gown and make me grow a beard. Forget it. I'll wear what I've got on thanks.' He gave Floyd a wry smile. 'So do you know when this great event is going to take place? How long do we have to prepare?'

Floyd now placed a hand on Spencer's shoulder. 'I dunno how long, but I advise that you start packing – if that's any guide. I do believe that you should sleep though. So lay down and let me hold you… and stuff. I think I owe you something.'

'I'm not counting.' But Spencer laid down with his back to Floyd. 'Sam?'

'Let him sleep, but I owe him too. You might not be counting, but I am. Don't fly off on one later.'

Spencer didn't answer. There was no need to. He wouldn't get angry later, at least he hoped he wouldn't. Though from where he was laying with his head resting on one of Floyd's cushions and with Floyd's hands quickly moving his hands over Spencer and whispering sweet words like… 'How do you want it, you dirty little slut?' … Spencer almost hoped that… no more than almost… Spencer wished that Sam was awake too… at least to watch if not to join in.

He drifted off into a sleep which had no dreams or nightmares, at least not that he could remember. He could feel arms holding him and warm breath on the back of his neck and wondered if it was possible that he could just stay here for ever and never have to move again. Spencer was awoken by shouting and crashing sounds. The tent still that that reddish glow to it but Sam was no longer curled up on the floor where he had been. Now Sam was awake and shouting and Floyd was awake and shouting back at him.

'I don't want to go!' Sam was howling at Floyd. 'I don't want to go to some dark nowhere and have to fight monsters off for the rest of my life! I don't want to be ripped apart or turned into a vampire or some werecreature. I wanted to just live on the streets and do drugs and whore my arse out! I'm not a fighter! I don't want to do this and so I'm not going with you!'

'You don't have a fucking choice!' Floyd had hold of Sam's upper arms and was giving him a shake. 'You will do what I sodding well tell you to do! You're just an excuse for a cunt! You're nothing! You'll fucking take up that bow and you'll practice!'

'I don't need to! I'm not bloody well going!'

Now there was a sound of fist on flesh, now as Spencer looked carefully at the altercation it was Sam doing the hitting and Floyd doing the defending. 'You're going if you like… stop fucking hitting me and listen… you have to practice! Fucking hell Sam! Stop!'

Reid considered getting up and going over to the pair of them, but this wasn't a fight to the death. Sam wasn't really doing any damage physically to Floyd, at least not as far as he could tell and Floyd wasn't hitting back either. This was Sam getting it out of his system and it seemed that Floyd was letting him. 'Why do you hate me so much?' Sam howled as he tried to get through Floyd's defences.

'I don't hate you! If I hated you, I'd not be asking, telling, you to get practicing!'

'It's not to protect me! It's to protect _you_! You have Spencer getting ready to protect you with words and me to shoot anything and everything and what will you be doing? What's your weapon!'

Floyd finally smacked back. Sam flew off his feet and landed in a screaming huddle on the floor. 'You stupid fuck!' Floyd bellowed back at him.

'Then answer me! What weapon will you carry? What will you use to protect me and Spencer? Answer me!'

There was no answer though. Floyd looked over at Spencer who was now giving him a questioning glare and then he walked out into the darkness.

'You don't have a fucking weapon! You're relying on me and Spencer to watch your back! You fucking bastard!'

Then a sudden still in the air, only spoiled by Sam's sobbing breaths. Spencer was going to ask if he was OK, but didn't. He was going to go over there and put an comforting arm around him, but didn't. Spencer just stayed where he was and thought of what Sam had just said.

'We are his weapons.' Spencer told Sam.

Sam shot Spencer a dirty look. 'I'm not. I'm his dog.'

'And he will send his dogs into fight for him. Isn't that how it's done? He doesn't need to do it himself if he has us to do it for him.'

'He wouldn't do that.' Sam hissed at Spencer. 'He'd not risk his life having you to protect him. What fucking use are you anyway?'

Spencer raised an eye brow. 'Cannon fodder? That's all I can think of, but maybe he has something planned? Give him a break, Sam.'

'Give _him_ a break? You're out of your tiny mind. He's going to send us both to slaughter, cos though he says he loves us and needs us and says all sorts of crap to get in our pants, really its only himself he loves. Open your damned eyes and see that. You just don't seem to be taking this seriously.' Sam crawled over the floor towards Spencer. 'It's going to happen. We are going to die the most horrific deaths and never come back again or if we do we'll come back as one of those creatures down there and that's not how I had planned my life.'

Spencer picked up the book and laid it on his lap. 'Then I will prepare. I'm taking it seriously, Sam. I think you need to also. You're good with that bow?'

'I'm passable. I'm not the most awesome bowman ever, but I can hit a stationary target.'

'Then get out there and practice hitting moving ones.'

Sam sighed and got to his feet. 'Firstly I want coffee. Then I'm going to aim those little buggers at Floyd's shitting arse.'

'He has a plan.' Spencer said as he found the page he'd reached before.

'Is that meant to comfort me? You know how badly he plans. You know how he cant stick to any form of plan even if he's made it himself. He drifts around like a damned… I dunno… like he's got his brains in his dick… and then wonders why everything turns to shit. He's never completed a fucking task in his bloody life! He leaves all windows and doors open. He's not capable of finishing something he's started. We are fucking doomed! Cant you see that?'

Spencer mouthed the names of the things he was reading about before looking up at Sam. 'When I was a child, I was bullied at school. Not just the small stuff, the name calling, but the kicking, hair pulling stuff. The constant jokes about me, my family, what I looked like… how I thought. I couldn't walk out of the school gates and not be set upon by someone. Small kids, big kids, the big kids' brothers. I was a good target. My mother never came to the school to speak up for me, my father was always too busy. There was just me. Then one day there was a big kid who came forward. He kept the bullies away from me. He protected me. He's been there ever since. He wont take me voluntarily into danger. If that is what's going to happen then it's not his choice. He will protect us both. I don't know how, but he will. Floyd told me that day that he'd always have my back for as long as I needed. I still need. He's still here. I'm still alive.'

'Actually you're not.'

Spencer smiled. 'I'm where I wanted to be, Sam. I'm with Floyd. He's with me. You're here. He stuck to his original plan. He wont let anything down there get me all the time he's alive.'

'But…'

'No… it's going to be like something I've never experienced and maybe that's why I cant take it on fully, but I'm getting there. Go practice. If you don't think Floyd will look after you, if you really believe that, then do it for yourself.'

Floyd _was _getting ready though. He had a baldric over his shoulder and a short sword in a scabbard. There were small sheaths on the baldric holding a row of razor sharp throwing knives. Each of them had a small row of tiny holes in the silver, weighted handles which made the knives give out a strange whistling cry as they flew with horrific accuracy from Floyd's hands. Knives weren't his favourite thing to use. Throw one, they stick in something which can then pull out and chuck back at you. He needed to be dead certain that each hit was an instant kill. If not… then the next time it was thrown it possibly could be. And that was something which bothered Floyd rather a lot.

Spencer was handed a thing which Floyd named _Spencer's magical utility belt_. It had tiny pouches, each big enough for a few bits of something and others which could hold phials of stuff which was mixed and ready to go. All Spencer had to do was try to remember what was in which pouch and after he'd done that, he had to remember what was used for what.

'How will I get more supplies of this stuff when I run out?' Spencer asked. He was running fingers over the belt trying to fix in his mind what was where.

Floyd looked at Spencer and gave a small frown. 'You'll find stuff. Don't worry about that. Just worry about what you need to know. The rest will fall into place once we get there.' He then turned to Sam. 'Everything OK with you? Have you calmed down now?'

'Fuck you arsehole.' Sam replied. 'You know the exact location we're going to yet?'

There was a nod from Floyd. 'Not that it matters. All the same in the end isn't it? You seem to have made up your mind that you're going into instant death so the actual location doesn't really mean much. Unless you've decided to fight for what you want? It's like Wizard of Oz. You will get your prize at the end of the trip and then we'll all go home and live happily ever after.'

'Fucking bullshit. _You_ might get what you want in the end, but I think Spencer and I are going to bed dead long before we reach it. So tell me, if you know and if you think we should all have all of the available information, where are we going?'

'The Blatmore Caverns.' Floyd said. It obviously meant nothing to Spencer, but by the horrified look on Sam's face it _did_ mean something to him. Sam stood up and started to kick cushions around the tent. He strode over to Floyd, spat in his face and then run from the tent.

He would be back. Floyd knew he would be back. He wiped at the mess on the side of his face and turned to smile at Spencer who was just staring back opened mouthed. How Floyd hadn't torn Sam's head off for that, Spencer didn't know. 'I might have deserved that.' Floyd said to Spencer. 'It's not the nicest of places to go to. You want to know more about it before we arrive? Or do you want to just leave that and see for yourself?'

'Will it keep me alive longer if I know?'

'Likely not.' Floyd turned and faced Spencer. 'You know I didn't ask for this shit, don't you? I'd never put you in that sort of danger just to give myself pleasure. It's not going to be fun in the slightest. The Blatmore is an endless cave complex. When I call it a _cave_ it's more like an underground world. You'd not be able to see the roof… it's seems to be made out of rock which over the ages has melted and almost turned to glass in places. It's sort of like here I suppose. Endless darkness, which somehow because of the powers in the rocks and whatever you get light. It's not daylight, nothing natural about it. It doesn't keep the bad stuff away. It's said that it sends some people mad. It is said that others wander off into the side tunnels and just disappear, but they don't. They're still there, but they've become something else. You know?'

'Clearly I don't. Maybe I need to just see it for myself.'

'When we are there, I'll get Sam to walk first. Then you and I'll go last. I don't want you in the line of fire. I don't want something creeping up behind and getting you. Please, you have to promise me not to wander off and to listen to me. There's going to be things which your mind will find hard to explain. Weird shit. Hallucinations… spirits, demons… all sorts of vile shit is going to be after us, and all we have to do is to get through Blatmore and out the other side.'

'And you will send Sam first? You don't think you need to protect him too?'

Floyd shook his head slowly. 'Now listen to me, Sam can deal with this shit. He's seen this sort of thing all his life. He's born for this. He might be complaining now, but once there he's going to be in his element. He'll forget about dope and forget about needing to whore and he'll actually start to use his brain. He's quite capable of looking after himself. I just have to point him in the right direction. You're going to be vulnerable to things, at least at first, and I want to keep you safe. I need to keep you safe. What's the point in reaching your goal if the man you love isn't at your side?''

Spencer nodded. 'The man you love? Floyd you're incapable of love. You don't understand what it means. You have no idea.'

'I killed Joel. I killed him for you.'

'And you think that's love?'

Floyd stood. 'I cant think why else I would have done it. Get your bags ready. When we are called to leave we wont have time to pack so make sure you have everything you'll need. There'll be no little cafes to get your lunch in, so pack dried rations and water. I don't know how long it'll take us to get out of the caverns and once out…'

'What will be there?'

'I don't know. It changes. Maybe a forest, maybe a sea, maybe mountains… maybe fire… or perhaps there's nothing there. I don't know. We wont know until we arrive. So you need to be prepared.'

'You said there were settlements… who?'

'Things which are dragged down and abandoned. They make small places to try to live. Mostly they die out after a couple of years or so, but some manage to do farming and breed things to eat.'

'Things.' Spencer repeated.

'Yeah… you know… _things_…' Floyd rested a finger on the top of Spencer's head. 'And I _do_ love you. Maybe not in conventional sense or in the way you understand love to be, but it's still there.'

Sam now had on a pair of knee length, slightly baggy jeans which were held up by a belt around his hips. He had no top on, but there was a strap diagonally across his chest which held the bow in a case on his back. The arrows were in a quiver at his side. He'd tied his hair back and slightly to the side so that it'd not get in his way when firing. He wasn't practicing when Floyd found him though, he was kneeling, fiddling with the hem on his jeans and staring off into nothingness. He was pissed off with Floyd. Very pissed off. He didn't want to go and have to fight monsters. It wasn't what he wanted to do. It didn't matter what Floyd thought was best, in Sam's mind this was a suicide mission, and he wasn't ready to die. He knew Floyd was walking towards him… he could hear the footsteps, or maybe he could sense them more than hear them, but Sam swivelled around on his knees, drew the bow with one hand and the arrow was knocked and pointing at Floyd's heart with such speed that Sam's hands were a blur.

'You going to kill me now?'

Sam lowered the weapon and shook his head. 'No. The arrow tips are not silver. I don't think they'd hurt you. Have you convinced Spencer to die for you yet? It's going to take more than one fuck and a hand job to convince _me_.'

'How about a nice rib job?'

'Might just work, but I'm not going to give you the chance. When are we leaving? You might not want Spencer to know but you gotta tell me. I have things to prepare. How much time do I have?'

Floyd's face twitched slightly as though attempting to smile, but he gave up and ran his fingers through his hair instead. 'I asked for what you wanted, Sam. I didn't ask for this. I've told you that. I'm trying to keep us all alive. When we arrive I want you to take the lead. I will take rear. No pun intended there at all… but I think Spencer needs to be between the two of us, and I want to be able to see what you're doing. I need to be able to see you're safe. You want arm guards?'

Sam was having none of Floyd's bullshit today. He was fired up and ready to rock, and this sitting around doing nothing wasn't his idea of fun. He removed the arrow from the bow, reholstered the bow and put the arrow back in the quiver. 'You've not answered my question. When are we leaving?'

'Soon. Pretty soon I think.' Floyd walked closer now that Sam wasn't armed and he knelt down in front of him. 'I just don't want to freak Spencer out too much but telling him. I need him to keep his cool. Stay calm. I need you to help me make sure he's OK. I'll have your back at all times. I'll not let anything happen to you.'

'You've said that so many times. Do you even realise that you're saying it? You might have my back, but given the choice between helping me if I'm being dragged towards the maw of a monster, or helping Spencer, I know that you'll not even glance in my direction. I'm a dog. I'm your weapon. Spencer is your protection. You, though, you're just a fucking cunt. I'll never forgive you for this.'

'Sure you will.'

'Get your hands off me!... Out of my shorts. I don't want your hands on me.' Sam unbuckled his belt as it seemed to be taking Floyd too long to do it. 'I don't want you doing this to me. I want you to go away. I want… I want… Damn you… fuck me… quickly while Spencer's not around. We're keeping a points system… I'm in the lead.'

'Don't be so sure of that… turn around and get your hands on the floor, you've some catching up to do.'


	28. Chapter 28

28

It was maybe three sleep periods later that Floyd was called for. He was hunkered down looking over the vast nothing when he saw something coming in his general direction and as he was the only other thing in sight he assumed that whoever it was, was looking for him. Floyd had his forearms resting on his thighs with his hands hanging down by his knees. He glanced up at the messenger, but didn't bother getting to his feet. There would be only one reason someone would be sending for him.

Floyd had hoped for more time. He wasn't ready. His boys weren't ready, would never be ready in Spencer's case. Floyd wondered what would happen if he got up and legged it. Ran away, as such. Ran and never stopped running. But he stayed where he was. Running was something Floyd hated to do… at least running from fates.

'His Lord requests that you attend.' A small high pitched voice spoke to Floyd.

'When?' Maybe it was next year? Next lifetime?

'You are to gather your dogs and baggage now. No time to waste.'

Now… that wasn't what Floyd had wanted to hear. Not at all. Maybe _It was just a joke… HAHA… you can take your fuck buddies and go to the lagoon._ Floyd nodded his head slowly and clenched his fists. 'I'll be there as soon as I have gathered my things.'

'Then make it quick. They're waiting.' There was a bit of a pause. 'And their humours were high and merry.'

'I'm glad that I'm such good entertainment for them.'

'Aye.' The thing laughed at Floyd. 'You are an endless cause for amusement. You seem to encapsulate all which is pathetic and lost. And you know how much that amuses them.'

Floyd stood now. He would have swung a fist out and clobbered the thing, but it was already too far away; running backwards with a grin on its face, or was it running forwards with its head on backwards. It was hard to tell. Floyd rubbed with annoyance at his leg, turned and walked at a slow, unhurried amble, back to the tent.

Sam was practicing his quick draw… which had already been a blinding speed, and seemed to have increased. He might actually be of some use if he didn't panic or see something nice… It was to Sam he went first.

'We've been called, but before we go, remember what I told you. Don't be lured away by things. Stay with me and Spencer.'

'What could possibly lure me away, when I have something as wonderful as you to look at?'

'Get your kit ready. If you don't have it with you in five minutes then you go without.'

Sam gave Floyd a small salute. 'I'm ready.'

Then to Spencer who was reading the book again and had a hand pressed to his forehead. 'Babes?' Floyd hunkered down next to him. 'Time to pack up and leave. We've been called.'

Spencer looked more than a bit alarmed. 'I cant do this Floyd. I cant do it. I don't know why I'm even being sent on such a thing. I have no use. This stuff isn't going to work…'

'I'm relying on you. I need you. Don't let me down now Spence. Get your stuff ready. Five minutes and we're off.'

Reid closed the book and placed it in a leather bag he had over his shoulder. 'Why are we doing this?'

'Because I failed. I'm being sent down.' Floyd gave a shrug. 'And you're my official dogs. You come with me.'

Spencer looked confused. 'Failed in what? How did you fail?'

'Failed in the task I'd been given. I left a job half done… business not finished… then Taki.'

'You killed Taki.'

'And Taki crippled me and for that reason I threw myself down from the building.' Floyd showed Spencer the palm of his hands. 'I failed. I should have completed my task first and I didn't.'

'Taki was your task and you completed that!' Spencer started to get to his booted feet.

'No… Taki wasn't. Jack was.' Floyd stood too and brushed a hand over the front of Spencer's chest as though to remove dust. 'You look awesome.'

'I look like a fool.' Then a small pause. 'Jack?'

'Jack… yes, like I said and I like fools. Now get the rest of your things and keep all that information in your head. We're leaving. I just need to get my shit and then…' He didn't finish but turned away from Spencer and went to buckle on his knife baldric and short sword.

The meeting with _Them_ could have gone better. They weren't released and sent somewhere nice, but then again they weren't eaten for lunch either. They did as tradition demanded and went to one knee and kept their eyes down. Most of what was said sounded to Spencer like just wailing and gnashing of teeth with a few guttural howls, which actually Spencer thought came from Sam as a reply to something. It wasn't in a language that Spencer knew and no one seemed willing to translate, so he stayed still, kept his eyes down and looked at the floor which seemed to be slowly pulsating.

'Ah… Floyd?' Spencer moved the fingers of one hand. It felt as though the floor was slowly sucking him downward. 'Floyd!'

Floyd turned to look at Spencer but said nothing. He'd get used to it eventually. Floyd turned his head the other way to see that Sam had lifted his head to look out into the darkness. Sam slowly got to his feet. It made the same sort of sound a woolly mammoth might have heard when it tried to crawl out of a tar pit… 'Fuck the lot of you!' Sam shouted… there was a small popping sound and almost faster than the eye could follow, Sam was sucked down into the floor feet first.

'Ah… What the hell?' Spencer again moaned. He was sliding slowly into the floor. He'd placed his hands down to stop try to stop what was happening but now he was being pulled down, slowly disappearing. Floyd wanted to go running to him and pull him back out again, beg the _Them_ to let Spencer go and though that's what he wanted to do, he didn't. He looked away from Spencer's terrified face and glanced back at the floor again.

'I apologise for the behaviour of my dogs.' Floyd spoke up as Spencer's screams turned into pitiful gurgling sounds.

A voice rang out… 'Go!'

And like Sam, Floyd was dragged down through the floor.

'Oh my dear Christ.' Spencer moaned as he seemed to be slapped down onto the floor from an unknown height. A white cloud of dust exploded out from around him. Reid scrabbled to his knees as more dust flew up around him, causing him to cough and sneeze. His eyes were watering as he heaved in gulps of air clotted with the white dust… and someone was shouting something from a small distance away.

'Who are you? Who the hell are you?' It was Sam's voice. A very panicked cry. 'I'm going to fill you with fucking arrows if you don't tell me who you are! I'll count to ten, then you're dead! You hear me?'

Spencer slowly raised his hands. It was still hard to see anything other than the clouds of dust, but it did seem to be clearing slowly. His vision though was out of focus with the tears running down his face as his eyes attempted to wash the stuff out of his eyes. 'It's… me… it's Spencer! Sam it's me.'

'Prove it! I'm counting in my head damn you, and I've reached _six_ already!'

'Sam! Calm down. Where are you? Where are we?'

'Spencer? Is that really you?' The voice seemed to be closer now. A dark form drifted in and out of the dust.

'It's really me. I said didn't I?' Reid stayed kneeling with his hands up and palms forwards. 'But how do I know that's really you? Come closer.' The dark shape suddenly moved back again and Spencer rubbed at his eyes to try to get them to work properly again.

'I'm not fooling for it. Sorry. If that's really you, why have you been so long and where's Floyd?'

Spencer licked his lips and wiped at his mouth. He seemed to be covered in this dust. It was sticking to his sweaty skin and plastering it self to his hair. But at least he could now see a bit better. 'Floyd's not here? Where _is_ here? What's all this stuff?' Now Spencer slowly got to his feet.

'You've not answered my question!' Now the voice was coming from behind Spencer, so he turned slowly to face that direction. 'I've been here for fucking months! I've been waiting for you! Where's Floyd?'

Spencer took a breath of air, which finally didn't seem to be full of dust and powder. 'I don't know where Floyd is. I thought we would all arrive together. You cant have been here months, Sam. Just a short while ago we were all together.'

Again that dark form drifted just into view and now Spencer could see it was Sam. He didn't look much like the Sam who had been kneeling on the black floor only minutes ago though. This Sam was bruised and battered. This Sam looked like he had the body of a well toned gymnast. Spencer could see the muscles in his arms trembling as he held the bowstring back ready to fire that arrow he had knocked and ready.

'I've fucking well been here for what feels like a damned lifetime! I thought you were never coming. I thought I'd been tricked.' Now Sam's voice had fallen to that familiar whine. 'Why did you take so long?'

'Lower the bow Sam. I'm unarmed. You know that. I'm no danger to you. I got here as soon as I was sent… how can you have been here so long? That's not possible.'

'Fuck.' Sam groaned as the bow was lowered. 'Time here isn't the same as elsewhere.' He holstered his bow and put the arrow back. 'I was so freaking scared you have no idea.'

Spencer put pacifying hands out to Sam. 'Well I'm here now, but I don't know what use I'm going to be for you. Have you seen anyone else?'

The laugh which came out of Sam's mouth echoed horribly. It was more like the insane laugh of a witch than a reaction to something amusing. It sounded like Sam had lost his mind. 'Have I seen anyone else? Oh fucking hell! Spencer! I've spent the last however long fighting off everything from giant spiders to weird flying creatures… small bugs, giant bugs… things which are made of shadows and things made of fire. I've seen things to unhinge a mind. Luckily for me, my mind was pretty much unhinged before I got here and I've seen shit like this before so I know it's real… it's real… and that somehow makes the whole _fighting for you life_ situation somewhat more fucking terrifying!'

Spencer felt Sam touch his hand now though. 'What have you been eating? We didn't pack rations to last months.'

Sam grabbed Spencer's hand in a firm vice like grip. 'Oh you don't want to know what I've been eating, Spencer. You really don't want to know that. I've still got all my rations though! So ha fucking ha! You can have them. Why eat dried shit when there's fresh meat to be had?'

'You look hurt.'

'Hurt. Good way of putting it. I was pounded into the fucking dust – that's what I was.' Sam moved in closer and still holding tight onto Spencer's hand rested his dust covered chest. 'We need to sit, back to back. You need to remember what charms and chants you can and we have to stay here until Floyd arrives.'

'It's going to be all right.' Spencer knew it sounded pathetic and pointless, but he couldn't think of anything else to say. Floyd hadn't arrived yet and if Sam really had been down here months all ready, then they might have a long wait. He knew that any protection he could offer Sam was minimal and any protection he could offer himself was virtually nil.

'Every now and then something falls down. Mostly they're very demonic looking things and they scuttle away as soon as they arrive. I've been waiting and watching. I cant afford to move too far away in case Floyd suddenly arrives and moves off and I miss him. I wonder if that's all ready happened you know? Has he just abandoned me and left and gone on alone?'

Spencer tried to get Sam to sit, but he refused. He'd go down on his hunkers or on one knee, but he wouldn't sit. 'It's too dangerous, I cant move fast enough if I'm sitting. I have to be ready to run. I advice you to do the same.'

'It's hot.' Reid hunkered down, but didn't yet let go of Sam's hand.

'We are in hell, what did you expect?' Sam snorted back his reply. 'Now get your back to me. At least now I can see behind me… or know if something's coming.'

'What do we do now? Have you had a look around this place?' Spencer could see twinkling lights in the distance but apart from that and the dust on the floor there seemed to be nothing here.

'I've had enough of a look to confirm where we are. This is called The Shaman's Entry. Or Old Mother's Cunt. Depending on whose maps your looking at. It's like a main portal point. As for looking further around, no, not really. It's too vast. I'd have to go too far from here. And you'd not believe what's out there… I don't want to have to face those things again until Floyd is with us. I don't know what's on our side and what isn't, but I'm assuming nothing's on our side for now. I've been killing everything I see move.

And so for a short while they just knelt. Back against back… Spencer could feel the heat and sweat pouring off Sam, and Sam could feel the same for Spencer. Reid had a drink of water to try to get the taste of whatever the powder was (he had a nasty idea that he knew what it was), he offered the water bottle to Sam who took the bottle from Spencer.

'So tell me Sam, what do we do now?'

'We wait.'

'I thought that there was going to be an army. I thought there was a war going on.'

'Sure there is. Just not right here. We've got to go find them I guess. I don't know, but there's always a war going on down here. Demons are not very likely to set up a café and tattoo bar are they, or spend their evenings nesting their eggs and knitting.'

'Demons lay eggs?' Spencer had never really thought about this before.'

'Well the egg laying type do. You can eat them. The eggs. You can nick them right out of the nest and then with a small skewer you pierce the shell and prod the contents around… you know to make sure it's all mushed up, and then you make the hole a bit bigger and drink it. It's good stuff. Very little in the way of cooking facilities down here… hot rocks and water pools and stuff, but no built in oven and hob type thing.'

Spencer thought he was going to throw up into his mouth hearing Sam talk like that. 'You ate demon eggs?' He must have misunderstood.

'You'd rather I'd starved to death? What did you expect me to do? Yes I ate demon eggs. I've eaten worse than that. So has Floyd.'

And they sat again in silence. Spencer felt Sam's back pressing hard against his for a while. He could also feel those steady deep breaths of someone sleeping. He wondered when Sam had last been able to sleep. Spencer knew that Floyd didn't have to sleep. He could go months and not sleep, but he wasn't so sure about how long Sam could hold out for… and he knew that he personally would have to sleep at some point. He would have to trust that Sam didn't run off and leave him, or even slice his throat as he slept. If Sam had been having to fight things off, then they couldn't have been here. This place seemed to be devoid of all life. There was an eerie silence only broken by his own breathing, heartbeat, and by Sam's own breathing and now the very occasional little snore.

When something dripped onto Spencer's arm he let out a small yelp of surprise. He wiped at it with a finger and looked closer. It looked like… and actually it smelled like… shit. When another bit dripped on his hand this time, Spencer slowly looked up. He let out a long but soft moan. 'Sam?' He didn't want to shout. He didn't want that thing hanging there in mid-air, shitting on him to see the alarm and maybe horror on his face. He gave Sam a shove and muttered… 'What's that above us?'

He heard the sudden movement behind him. He heard that whisper of a sound as the bow left the holster and he heard the hissing of words coming from Sam. 'A very minor demon. Much less than either of us.'

'I'm not a demon.' Spencer hissed back. 'It's crapping on me… do I move? Do I stay here? What do I do? Is it going to hurt us?'

'It's going to tear you limb from limb if you don't start doing something. I can shoot it, but you need to look at it and take note and maybe practice some of those chants? Play with it for a while.'

_Thwump, thwump_, Sam let off two arrows. Spencer didn't actually see Sam do it and wouldn't have known had it not been for that sound the bowstring made. It was the damned speed of it which amazed Spencer. Hardly a second between each of those two. 'Why is it there? What is it doing?'

'Probably meant to come and see who'd arrived. It'll try to report back… then more will arrive and we'll be a blood splat in the bone dust. So hurry up and say something magical to it. I've wasted two arrows Spencer. Are you going to explode it with the power of your mind or can I shoot it now?'

'You're waiting for me? Kill it!'

'Ah so easy. So fucking easy.' Another couple of shots, these two hitting the creature up there defecating on the pair of them. It let out a high pitched squeal and the dark stinking form ripped the arrows out and hurled them back down again. 'It will leave us now. Fuck off!' Sam howled at it. 'Fuck off but if you come back next time I'll have you made into a pair of boots! Get the hell out.'

It didn't fly away. It didn't fall. It didn't slowly rise into the darkness… it seemed to suddenly go fuzzy and just disappear again. 'Well that didn't seem all that dangerous.' Spencer pointed out. 'It didn't attack us. But you didn't kill it either.'

Sam gave Spencer a small grin. 'And you didn't say any enchantments against it _either_. Would have helped. These arrows cant kill a thing like that. I cant just _kill_ it. Don't you know anything? We are together because we have to work as a team. You need to remember your chants and potions… and not it didn't attack. It was watching, making note… reporting back that I now have a companion who is a useless fucker, so let's just hope that it's wrong huh? We need Floyd. You need to get that book out and revise your stuff.'

'Sam, we cant just sit here. Do you have somewhere you go to when you rest? Somewhere safe?'

Sam gave a small nod. 'I do. But it's called Floyd's bed… and Floyd's bed isn't here now is it? I don't have a nest if that's what you're asking. It's not safe enough for me to be able to rest long enough for that. Maybe now there's two of us though? Maybe we can do that. Over there…' Sam pointed. 'Is a fissure in the rocks and at the end is an opening. I went down there when I first arrived. I was chasing something… and I killed it down at the opening… just like a small cave. We could go there. One could sleep and the other keep guard at the entrance. We could see this place from there. We'll know when Floyd arrives.'

'What lived down there?' Spencer pulled a bit of old rag out of his bag and wiped the mess off his arm.

'Giant spider. There's eggs though. So we'll have to squash the eggs.' He paused. 'Can you eat spider eggs?'

'No.' Spencer was quite sure about that one. 'How giant was it, Sam?'

Sam stood and wiped dust off him self. 'About eight foot across… not including the legs. The mess should have dried up by now. We can look anyway.'

Spencer did a lot of throwing up over the course of the next hour or so. The spider had actually dried up and the damaged husk sat there on the floor, but it was the other things which brought the puke into Spencer's mouth and squirting out of his nose. The huge foot long maggots which when you trod on them squirted a warm custard like liquid up your leg. The stuff was so hot that after treading on three of four of the things Spencer thought he was actually going to have burns on his legs.

There were eggs too… Sam showed the huge nest to Spencer. He could see the dark shapes moving around in the things which were larger than a bowling ball. The surface of the eggs was thick and leathery and when Sam popped one with the point of an arrow the watery contents sprayed up and over Sam's face. This was another puke inducing moment for Spencer, but Sam didn't see bothered by it. He reached into the deflated shell, pulled the baby spider out and pulled the legs off. The creature which wasn't ready yet to hatch live a very short life… it withered and died almost as soon as it lost its legs; legs which Sam seemed to be placing carefully to one side.

'This place will be fine.' Sam spoke happily.

'It will?' Spencer scratched at his hair and at the imaginary thing crawling towards his ear. 'This stuff?' He gestured around at the huge writing maggots which still hadn't been destroyed.

'Kill them. I'll deal with the eggs. Just step on them.'

'I tell you what. You deal with the eggs and then you kill the maggots and I'll sit out there and keep guard and watch for Floyd.' He didn't give Sam a chance to argue. He wasn't going to kill another thing under his boots. Not today. Not and stay sane. No… to keep his sanity, Spencer would sit and look out for demons. He chortled slightly to himself. Obviously sanity wasn't going to be something used all that often down here.


	29. Chapter 29

29

There was no way to keep track of time down here. That alone would normally be enough to drive a person crazy. There was no day or night… just a continual low, almost glittery light. Sam had told Spencer that he'd finished killing the bugs and Spencer told Sam to go and sleep. It was fine. He was here. He would call out if he saw anything. Sam had hunkered down next to Spencer for a short while. There was thick yellowish gloop stuck to Sam's legs and spots of it on his arms and bits dripping off his hair. Sam seemed to have lost that desire to always look _fabulous_. Spencer wanted to make a comment on that fact, but starting up a bitch fight now wasn't ideal. He'd keep that information to himself. He told Sam to go and get rid of the dark circles under his eyes.

'Well just call out if anything happens.' Sam stood again. 'And maybe a small protective circle to sit in?'

And so Spencer waited for Sam to leave, got out his book and had a look at what he could do to protect himself and snapped the book shut again. How could a circle drawn in bone dust protect him from anything? It couldn't, but he found that he drew one anyway. _Just for something to do_. Not because he had any belief that it would work. Spencer was aware that he no skills which were going to keep them safe. He couldn't even step on bugs and not throw up… and he wasn't going to drink out of giant spider eggs. Once rations were depleted he was going to get very hungry.

Now as he sat inside his daft circle with his arms wrapped around his shins, staring out at the huge expanse in front of him, he wondered how the hell he was going to get through this if Floyd didn't arrive for months. How could he spend that long just with Sam and they not end up killing each other. Or at least trying to kill each other. His head dropped to his knees and his eyes closed. He wasn't sleeping. He didn't know if he'd be able to sleep again, not in this place, but he needed to rest his mind for just a little while. He was still listening out for things. He was still awake. He would swear on his life that he didn't fall asleep! It wasn't possible. He had too much swirling around in his head. Too many images of Sam pulling legs of baby spiders and drinking from the eggs. How he didn't hear anyone approach he didn't know, but that's what happened. Someone touched his arm. Still Spencer kept his head down, but his eyes shot open and he looked at the white floor he was sitting on.

'Hey.' That was Floyd's voice.

Slowly Spencer turned his head to look at him. 'Floyd?'

'Hey.' He said again. There was a small smile on Floyd's face.

'I didn't hear you arrive.' Spencer lifted his head and gave Floyd a close look.

'You were sleeping. Sam's sleeping. We have time to be just the two of us.'

It didn't feel like the time for such things, but suddenly Floyd's hands were on Spencer and his mouth was on him. 'Not now.' Spencer whispered. Even he noticed the slightly dreamy quality his voice had. 'We have to…'

'I've somewhere safe. Come with me, Spencer. Come and we can have fun for a little while. Sam is safe.' Floyd's hand grabbed at Spencer and pulled. 'With me… Come on!'

The hand felt wrong. The voice sort of sounded wrong too. The hand was too soft. The calluses and rough skin seemed to have been replaced by something soft and gentle. 'No… I will check on Sam first. We cant leave him.'

'Oh Sam will be fine. He's a trooper is that one! Sam can look after himself. Give me five minutes just with you.' Again the hand pulled on him. 'With me… come on Spencer.'

Slowly Spencer got to his feet. He could see the circle he'd drawn and he could see his feet and Floyd's feet standing within it. Spencer's feet were covered in the dust he'd been sitting in. Floyd's were shiny black boots. 'Let go of me.' Spencer hissed. He wanted to take a step back away from Floyd to get a better look at him. Somehow Floyd seemed to be half in the shadows…

'I'll have you here then.'

It wasn't Floyd. Hadn't Spencer been warned of hallucinations? He had… this must be what this thing was. It wasn't Floyd. He turned to face it fully on and though it _looked_ like Floyd, it looked like Floyd in a perfect incarnation. He was clean, his hair was cut to chin length and shiny clean. His clothes were unstained, not grubby… too clean… all too clean. And this thing didn't smell like Floyd. _That_ was the main thing. It didn't have the correct smell. Spencer glared at it, hoping it was warning enough. 'You're not Floyd.' He hissed at it. 'Get away from me.'

'And how are you going to make me go away? I seem to have walked right into your stupid circle.' It grinned such white teeth that it made Spencer wince.

'I'm warning you. I will call for Sam.'

'Oh call for the cunt! What a wonderful idea… But it wont work.' Hands gripped Spencer by the shoulders.

He tried to push them away. He pulled at the hands and pushed at the arms… He kicked and scratched, but this thing… 'Sam!' Spencer finally screamed out.

'Told you the cunt cant help you. You just don't pay attention do you? Some things come down here to play the hell games and they are so unprepared that it makes it almost boring. 'Come with me now or I will screw your head off your fucking shoulders and skull fuck you. Doesn't matter. Either way to me. I'm going to have you… and wont that make Floyd so happy?'

'Sam! Wake up!'

A fist this time… from somewhere, Spencer didn't know where because two hands were still holding his shoulders and pushing him back, back out of the circle and against the wall of the small tunnel, but a third fist smacked him in the mouth. 'He cant help you. Told you that already.'

'What have you done to Sam?' Spencer wailed in a long panicked scream.

'Personally? Nothing. Nothing at all. He just cant help you. Poor cunt. Poor you. Lucky me!'

Spencer didn't go quietly. He said the first two lines of some chant he'd read. He didn't know if it was the right one, but it seemed to do something. Just not the right thing it seemed. Again a fist cracked into his mouth. Hands seemed to be all over him. More than one voice was blaring in his head to be silent… It was like a dreadful, life ending type of tinnitus. The words just screamed and howled in his ears for him to be silent. The fists made contact with his ribs and stomach. How many hands did this thing have? How many other things did it have? Once more Spencer tried to say something to ward off whatever this thing was and this time a hand slapped over his nose and mouth and stayed there. His feet suddenly were pulled out from under him… somehow with the hand still on his face… stopping his breaths as well as his calls out to Sam – Spencer was dragged by his feet out of the small passageway entrance and away. He clawed at the floor, but it was made up of many thick layers of dust. There was nothing to hold onto… The hand fell away from his face, but it was no longer needed. Spencer received a kick to the side of the head and was for now silent.

Something, somewhere laughed.

o-o-o

When Sam woke up it felt at first as though he'd been asleep for weeks. His head felt wrong… his whole body felt wrong. He also thought that someone had placed a blanket over him. He was much too hot… but it wasn't a blanket. And he wasn't laying on the floor anymore… he seemed to be cocooned in something and was hanging up high, almost as though he was in a hammock made of thick strands of webbing. He blinked and looked around… darkness… silence and darkness. Maybe a scuttling sound from somewhere? 'Spencer?' Sam called out. 'Spencer! Help me!' But there was but a small echo as a reply. 'Spencer you stupid son of a bitch! Where are you?' Still just the scuttling sound. 'Who's there? Who's out there? Someone get me out of this thing!' Sam was well aware that he was spider dinner now. And he knew what was going to happen. The thing would inject something into him… and slowly his insides would liquefy and then the spider would suck out his insides and leave just the skin… Sam groaned softly to himself. All this time he'd been here alone and he'd struggled to survive and Spencer is here for… well for however long he'd been there and already Sam was going to be turned into spider soup. It made Sam think of what he'd done to the creature's eggs… but hadn't he killed that spider?

He was on his back staring up into nothingness. It seemed that his body was surrounded by the thick webbing, but the creature who had done this had left Sam's face uncovered and this small fact alarmed Sam as much as it would have if it had left his butt uncovered. He didn't have his bow or his quiver of arrows. He'd removed them when he thought Spencer had his back so he could sleep. But he did still have a knife on a small sheath strapped to his leg. All he needed to do was to get that knife and cut his way out. Simple job. Easy. At least it would have been if the damned webbing hadn't been so sticky that his arms were glued to his sides.

And there was that scuttling noise to think about too… 'Spencer!' Sam cried out again as he tried to wriggle, but he had a good and very perfect sense that Spencer wasn't there. That noise certainly wasn't Spencer. And Sam didn't think that Spencer was sitting in the tunnel keeping watch either. 'Well fuck.' Sam muttered as he again attempted to move his arms. 'I cant fucking move.' He tried wriggling his toes and there didn't seem to be much luck there either. 'I'm paralyzed? No… I can move my fingers… I think I can move my fingers. I can blink! I can shout and…'

He stopped his muttering when something heavy dropped down onto him. The weight of it squeezed the air out of his lungs in one huge scream. The hammock swayed and sagged as the thing sat astride him. It was a large thing, heavier than a person… dark, dry, female, disgusting and it was smiling at him. It was a thing which wasn't quite a spider and not quite a person, but somewhere in between the two. A werespider? He thought maybe something like that… or perhaps just a spider demon thing. Whatever it was had far too many arms and legs… too many eyes… and a drooling dark mouth. All of those eyes blinked at once and something which was maybe a dark pointed tongue flopped out of the side of the creature's mouth.

'You killed my babies.' The voice was a hissing, crackling sound.

Sam wanted to say something. Beg forgiveness, plead for his miserable life, make a deal… anything, but there was no air in his lungs and the thing was crushing down on him. He opened his mouth to try to say something, but a long nailed black finger rested on his bottom lip.

'You killed my babies.' The creature repeated. It then shifted its weight slightly and watched with amusing curiosity as Sam drew in a thick breath of air. 'Now what am I going to do?' The many eyes seemed to shift and move around on the head of the monster and melt into just two eyes on the front of the face. A small upturned nose pushed out of the hard black shell of a skin and the mouth pulled back to something more human looking.

'Please… I'm sorry. It wasn't me. I didn't know.'

'Well fibbing little boy… what am I going to do?'

Sam again tried to get to the knife but all he was able to do was to twitch the ends of his fingers. 'Please don't kill me.'

'Bargaining? With me? You are trying to get your silly little knife… why would I bargain with you? You'd kill me if I let you get hold of it.'

Sam bit down on his bottom lip. 'Where's Spencer?'

'The silly child who was keeping guard? He's gone. Don't waste your breath calling for him.'

There seemed no reason for Sam not to believe it. He'd called Spencer and Spencer hadn't arrived. He'd not come running to the rescue throwing holy water and speaking his useless chants. Sam tried crying. It seemed to work on some people. He pushed out a few tears and he sniffed up snot which was actually threatening to creep out of his nose anyway. He gave the almost human looking thing a pleading look.

It actually put a finger on the side of Sam's face and wiped a tear away. 'Wont work on me.' It shook its head. 'Don't think that your false apologies and your silly tears are going to work on me. You killed my babies. You pulled their poor darling legs off. They weren't even ready to be born.'

'I gave you an abortion.' Sam snapped at the thing. 'Things like you just go on having kids with no thought of how you're going to raise them or afford to keep them. I'd call you white trash, but you're not white.'

'No… you're right. I was foolish. And I am not white… but you are.' The thing smiled. 'Now I spent time trying to decide what I was going to do about this. I think you're going to like what I came up with.' The creature raised up on some of its rear legs and showed Sam something growing out of it which really shouldn't have been there. It was almost like an extra leg, or a penis, but this thing, if you go by the fact that it had drooping sagging breasts was a female. Slowly it moved up Sam's body. Sliding over his abdomen and over his chest and finally so it was almost sitting on Sam's neck. 'Open your mouth.'

'No.'

'Open your mouth or I will have to rip your throat out and have my fun another way.' The face of the creature seemed to shift again and the eyes separated and spread over the thing's face.

'Go fuck your dead babies.' Sam snarled out between his clenched jaw.

o-o-o

Spencer woke up in the loving embrace of a _something_. He couldn't actually see. Wherever he was was pitch darkness. Spencer never liked the dark, but the dark in a sweltering hot hell with something with prickles on it's chin molesting him was maybe too much for his brain to comprehend. He attempted to make what was touching him and slobbering over him, Floyd. It had _looked_ like Floyd and it had almost sounded like him… like Floyd when he's got a nose bleed or had just been kicked in the mouth by a mule. Spencer had been wrong about something though, this creature did actually only have four limbs. If he'd known Sam's predicament he might have appreciated that a bit more. As it was, chained to a wall with his hands above his head and sitting on what felt like a stone bench, this girly monster thing with far too many prickles and no prick at all… slid her filthy self over Spencer's unfortunately erect member. It wasn't excitement which had caused that. This really was the last thing he'd wanted or expected… it was something which the bitch who had disguised herself as Floyd had sort of forced upon Spencer with her mouth…

Scientific minds would like to say that it was something in the saliva. That was what Spencer was assuming, because being raped by a lady demon thing was not on Spencer's list of things which made him hard. Not anywhere even close to being on it. He'd tried struggling. He'd tried screaming. He'd tried the pleading and bargaining… and now sat with a glazed expression on his face and let this thing do to him what she wanted. He decided that the experience would be over quicker. It seemed like the right thing to do.

Initially this thing had dragged Spencer onto a pile of rotting rags. It had whispered sweet nothings into his ear. 'My darling sweetie-pie… show me what you can do with those beautiful long fingers.' And other nice things. Spencer had shown her nothing but dislike and indifference. He thought it would annoy the creature, and maybe it would give Sam time to come running in with his little bow and dinky arrows and shoot the thing somewhere where it would hurt but not kill. Or maybe even for the real Floyd to come hurtling in screaming abuse and tearing innards. It didn't happen though. The thing stuck fingers up places and touched places and the mouth with the prickles like from a hairbrush taunted and tempted him… except it wasn't really all that tempting. Spencer had finished screaming now. He thought he'd ripped something in his throat he'd screamed so much. This creature might have done something like given him a Viagra licking, but she couldn't force him to ejaculate. That part he still had control over. He hoped.

'Give me your seed baby.' The creature asked as she rocked her bloated form over him. 'Give me your baby my darling one. I can give you so much more that that animal Flanders can give you… come and seed me my sweet whore. Look at your heaving cock… dripping and oozing… bursting with the best love juice I've ever tasted. So sweet! So sweet! I'm going to have a mother fucking sugar rush just from your pre-cum. Come and full my hungry cunt, Spencer!'

She could ask all she wanted. She could say what she wanted and accuse all she wished, but Spencer would go to his grave denying that he'd given that thing anything more than some of his pre-seminal… and that thing _didn't_ need to be lubricated! She literally poured fluid over Spencer… a thick stinking mess it was too. She thanked him. She said that she was pleased with him. She promised to share him amongst her sisters and brothers. She told Spencer that he'd never go lonely again… 'Tonight I will send someone to you.'

Reid didn't reply. He didn't respond to her. He was still trying to work out how he'd done such a vile horrific thing and kept his lunch down. He could feel her fluid drying on his bare skin. He could feel it sticking to the flesh between his legs and pulling on hairs. It was the most hideous way to get depilated that he could think of.

Spencer rested his head on the wall and kept his eyes closed. There was no point in trying to see what was there. He couldn't fight it off. He couldn't get away from it. He could maybe chant some rubbish at it, but when he attempted that they shut him up pretty quickly and having demon cunny stuffed in your face to keep you quiet wasn't going to be repeated. Spencer would rather die than go through that particular horror again.

o-o-o

Floyd arrived head first into the dust where Spencer had landed… how long ago? Floyd had no clue. He just knew that he'd been held up somewhere… for a while. A long damned while it was too. He felt his head impact with something just under the dust. He felt his head explode with pain and an odd heat. He lay there in the dust for a while and decided that he'd split the skin on his head, just above his left ear. It was bleeding like a son of a bitch but was going to be just fine. Oh yes… Oh he was going to be wonderful. A bit dusty, but ready to fight… Except there was nothing to fight. The boys hadn't waited for him…

But he could sense them easily enough. Sam right ahead and Spencer off to the right. He got to his hands and knees and sniffed the air once the dust had settled. Sam… Sam was closer. Now on his feet he turned in the direction he could feel Spencer had gone… maybe been taken… he could feel fear and repulsion. In Sam's direction he could feel fear too…

'So it's a rescue I have to do? But who… which one first?'


	30. Chapter 30

30

Sam was closer. It really was just that which made up Floyd's mind as to who to get first. And Sam had weapons. There was that too. No other reason. The nearer to where Sam was that Floyd got the more mixed the scents became. Spencer had been with Sam at some point, but now they were separated. Any sign that Spencer had drawn something in the dust was now gone, but his shoulder bag with the book was laying there next to the wall in the narrow passageway Floyd was now creeping along. Floyd picked it up and inspected it for things like blood and… well just for blood really and seeing none he shouldered it and with one hand on the passageway wall he walked slowly onwards. The hand wasn't there to feel his way. He could see perfectly well. The light seemed to glow from behind the glassy walls. He was feeling for odd sensations in the rock. He was also attempting to calm the small panicky feeling he was getting, though he'd deny that was what he was feeling. It was just his heart thumping overtime in his chest. Adrenaline… not panic. He wiped at the dribble of blood which had made its way over and around his ear and down his neck and licked at his fingers. 'I'm on my way Sam.' He whispered. 'Hold on there.'

It was the smells which were alarming Floyd… maybe the silence too. It was the smell of a lair, something ancient, disgusting and the smells of things which were no longer alive. There was hate there too… it wasn't Sam's hate. It was an alien hate. A monstrous hate. 'Great.' Floyd pulled the short sword from the scabbard and stood about twenty feet from where the tunnel opened up into a cave… or maybe the tunnel just widened. But whatever was down here was not far away now.

There was a temptation to call out for Sam and let him know he had arrived. The cavalry was here. Mister big guy and his trusty short sword was going to save the world. So why was he just standing there doing nothing? So slowly he moved forwards, checking out the floor, walls, ceiling, behind, in front… stopping once or twice to take in the smells. A rotting stink.

It was obvious as soon as he entered the small cave… it was a spider's lair. The webs hung in thick curtains down the walls and in swaying, dirt encrusted swags from the ceiling. The floor was covered in things which the creature had cocooned for later… there were also dark things glued to the walls which Floyd thought was probably old husks. The place was hot and dry… and somewhere in here was Sam and there was also the creature which lived here. He stepped over decaying things which at first Floyd took as being snakes and then realised were huge maggots. Sam's bow and his quiver were leaning against the wall as though he'd placed them there. Floyd walked to them, shook off the dust and slung them over his shoulder as he had done Spencer's bag. He had the goods, so where there hell were his boys.

A squelching sound underfoot… 'Puke.' Floyd muttered. He hunkered down and dipped his fingers in it and lifted them to his nose. 'Spencer's puke? I wasn't expecting that.' This time he wiped his fingers on the front of his shirt. He saw something out of the corner of his eye. Something like a human shaped lump covered in webbing. 'Sam?' Floyd scuttled forwards. It was impossible to tell who or what was under the thick layer so Floyd cut carefully. No point in rescuing someone if you kill them in the process. He could tell though as soon as he'd removed just a small amount that this wasn't Sam. It was female. A female child with yellow hair and big blue eyes which were staring up at the ceiling. Her eyes seemed almost… no definitely too big for her face and her mouth was slightly open. Dead or alive? Well Floyd wasn't here to rescue every creature he came across, he just wanted Sam, but there was something odd about this thing… it wasn't human for a start… but the eyes seemed to be bulging outwards and then sinking slightly back again as though something was there trying to escape. A tiny spider crawled out of her nose.

'Oh…' Floyd flicked it away with his finger. 'Gross.'

'I find it rather lovely.' A dry old voice said from above him.

Floyd jumped back to his feet and pointed his sword upwards. He didn't expect to stab anything with it, and his expectations were not unwarranted. 'Where's my boy, you bitch!' Floyd shouted at the ceiling.

'Your boy? Is that what he was? Step away from my babies and I might let you know.'

The sword point immediately went back to the face of the child with the stupidly big pulsating eyes. 'Uh ha… you tell me and I'll step away from this thing now. Tell me bitch or I'll kill it right now.'

'Killing that thing wont kill by babies… but…'

'But? But what?' He flicked at another tiny spider with the point of the sword. 'Come on bitch! Tell me or I start skewering your kiddies right now.'

'He's around.' A hissing dry sound almost like a sigh. 'You arrived just in time.'

'Just in time for what?' He stood, looking around the cave for Sam and for the thing talking. 'Where's Sam?'

One of the swags on the ceiling sagged, swayed and with a ripping roar and a shower of dust, thudded to the floor. Floyd could see that again there was someone wrapped up in a cocoon, but this one hadn't covered the face completely. 'Why? Why take him then hand him back without a fight?'

'Who said I'm not going to fight?'

Floyd took a step towards the bundle. He could see Sam's wide open eyes and his mop of hair and he could see his nose and dribble of blood seeping from it and crawling down the side of his face… he could also see that Sam's mouth and lower jaw was thickly covered with a layers of webbing. He moved closer, again with his sword at the ready. He almost expected spooky spider music to start playing, but the room remained horribly quiet apart from the sound he himself was making. 'I cant fight you if you don't show yourself.' Floyd spoke calmly as he put the sword back in the scabbard and pulled the webbing off and away from Sam's mouth. 'Come on bitch. I'm not armed. You can come get me.'

'Take your toy and leave me. We are not necessarily enemies. You should consider that sometimes. Not everything you meet is going to fight against you. Some of us have laid bets on our team.'

Floyd ignored the creatures nonsense. 'Sam?' He patted the side of Sam's face and slowly Sam seemed to respond. 'Hey it's me. I've got you.' The webbing pulled away surprisingly easily. Too easily. Maybe this wasn't really Sam? 'Sam… can you talk to me?'

'Ah… for fuck…' Sam muttered. It sounded like Sam's voice… after a night of a lot of fun down a back alleyway.

Floyd didn't bother checking further. He lobbed Sam over his shoulder along with the other stuff he'd picked up. 'I don't know what you took him for if you're just going to hand him back to me.'

'How else would I have got to meet the wonder who calls himself Floyd… though we all know that's not your real name.'

Floyd shook his head. 'You don't know anything bitch!'

'Of course not. Beware the thing that has Spencer.'

But Floyd was already out of the cave and pelting it down the passageway. He could hear Sam groaning, and that was good. That was very good. He liked it when Sam groaned. He didn't like it so much when monsters took his boy and just handed it back again without a fight. That was wrong. That was very wrong. He kept running with Sam bouncing over his shoulder until he was back on the main cavern. He then dropped Sam to the dust and started to pull the rest of the webs off him. They seemed to be disintegrating as he pulled them. 'Sam… what happened?'

Silly question. He could see what had happened. Sam had a monster of a bruise on the side of his neck and looking carefully there seemed to be a red bumped up point central to it. He'd been doped up by the lovely Spider Lady. There were bruises over Sam's ribs, chest, neck… and around his jaw.

'I thought I was going to die.' Sam moaned.

Floyd shook his head at him. 'Not yet darling… not yet. Tell me what she did to you. What did she say to you? What do you remember?'

I killed her eggs and Spencer took guard at the entrance and I had the first sleep in months. Where the hell have you been? Is Spencer OK?'

'What did she do to you?' He touched the side of Sam's neck. 'Can you move?'

'I'm tingling all over.'

'Sam!' Floyd was, now that he had the boy back, getting annoyed. 'What did she do to you? What else? She caught you… what else?'

Sam shook his head. 'Nothing else.'

'Did you penetrate you?'

'What?'

'Did she stick something up your arse or down your throat… it's important Sam, did she do or say anything other than take you prisoner?'

Sam blinked at Floyd and clenched his fists. 'She paralyzed me and said I'd killed her babies.'

'Are you sure that's all? Think, Sam… think.'

Sam could remember that horrific thing being forced down his throat. He could feel it pulsating and burning as it just seemed to keep going and going and going… he remembered trying to bite down on it and it feeling like he was biting on hot metal. He could remember that sickening feeling as something seemed to spray into his stomach, and then the thing withdrawing. He had wanted to be sick, but the creature covered his mouth to stop him spewing. He'd been choking on the stuff which had tried to escape from his mouth and down his nose. He'd tried to scream… and then there was nothing… A memory of someone singing a nursery rhyme and talking as though a mother would speak to new born child. 'No… there was nothing else.' Sam whispered.

'We will rest for a short while, until you get your sea legs back again. I've got your bow and shit. Spencer is missing. We will go find him next.'

'He got caught?'

'Seems so. You should have stayed together.'

'I was trying to take control. I've been here for months alone and I wanted to show Spencer I was in control of shit and that he should do what I told him.'

'Oh you showed Spencer all right. Now just relax and if you remember anything else which happened with the spider thing… Tell me what she looked like… normal big spider type thing?'

'No… normal demon type thing… humanoid, eight limbs… morphing features.'

'And you killed its babies?'

Sam pushed up onto his elbows. 'By accident.' He lied. A pure lie. This was the sort of lie which Floyd could sense as easily as someone ringing your front door bell. _Ding-dong_! That bell sounded off.

'OK.' He could accuse Sam of lying to him or he could keep going with him and never let him out of his sight. He thought that the latter was going to be what he'd do. He needed Sam to help him get Spencer back. But why was Sam lying to him anyway? What the hell had Spider Lady done to him? He looked again at the bruises on Sam's jaw. It looked very much like the same patteren made on the times Floyd had forced open Spencer, or Sam's jaw. But that meant nothing. It might not even have happened in the spider's lair. Floyd rubbed at his eyes and gave Sam a closer inspection. A very close one. It was definitely Sam. 'Here, drink some water. It'll help.'

Sam was shaking and Floyd could clearly see that, but that meant nothing. He'd have been more surprised if Sam wasn't shaking. Being caught and tied up and… and that other thing Sam was hiding from him… that too… could cause a lad to have the shakes, however that was no damned good to Floyd… He needed Sam to have a steady hand or those arrows were going to be going off in every direction and they still didn't know what they were going to be facing. Floyd took this rest stop as a chance to have a smoke. Whoever blessed them and sent them on their journey had taken most of the pain out of Floyd's leg. He stood and stretched and hunkered down again next to Sam.

'Just give me a few more minutes.' Sam was watching Floyd as closely as Floyd was watching Sam. 'And if you don't trust me, just slit me open now.'

'What? Why wouldn't I trust you?'

'Because you're looking at me in that way.'

'What way? I'm just checking out how shaky you are.'

'The way you look at me just before you beat the shit out of me. I left Spencer to sit guard! I didn't do anything wrong. I was so tired. We're not all like you and able to stay awake forever. Some of us need sleep. I told him to practice his chants and protections.'

Floyd prodded Sam in the chest. 'You really are stupid. Those fucking chants wont do fuck all. Maybe up top they might… if he's really lucky he might be able to protect himself from a fucking wasp or something, but nothing else.'

'Then why did you tell him to learn all that shit. And for your information that shit is real.'

'I know it's real. But you gotta believe it, Sam. And Spencer doesn't. He thinks it's mumbo jumbo rubbish and all the time he thinks that it's not gonna work. He's no faith in it… maybe we can try to give him some?'

Sam let out a snort of a laugh. 'Yeah… drag dead meat around with us and play _let's pretend_ and that's going to get us to the other side? To our Oz? That's going to fulfil our wishes? Yeah… I really do believe that's going to happen.'

Floyd said nothing. He stood, prodded Sam's bow and stuff with his toe and nodded in the direction they needed to go. Did Sam really think he was going to get his wish if he reached the other side of this war? If they won? He'd not tell the dog otherwise… if that's what he wanted to think and if that's what kept him going. Well sure… let him. Motivation was a good thing. Finding Spencer was very good motivation.

Spencer had figured out that the creature was some kind of shape shifter or something. He also knew that there were more than three of them. Maybe five… it was hard to keep tabs on the things because they kept disappearing, or at least that's how Spencer would have reported it if he was talking to the police about it… 'No officer I didn't get a good look at her. She kept to the shadows. She had friends and they all kept to the shadows. I think they had masks because their faces changed. How else could their faces change? It wasn't possible… faces don't just _change_ and you cant just change your gender like that! It's not possible!'

He realised that he was talking aloud when a fist smacked him in the jaw. 'Shut your noise idiot boy.'

His head rocked back, cracking on the wall behind him. _Don't argue. Agree with everything. Sam would arrive soon… wait… hold on._ 'Good keep my words inside of my…'

It was a long metal object which caught Spencer this time in the side. The stool he was seated on was kicked out from under him and the chains pulled up. Spencer wanted to curl up and try to regain the breath which had just been knocked out of him, but he'd not been given the chance to do that. He took long wheezing gulps of breath, trying his hardest not to look like someone who was about to start screaming like a girl. 'He will come for me.' Spencer let the thing know. Other things were there too… sort of on the wall, like they were a projection rather than real creatures, but Spencer knew that they were real. They'd used their fists on him enough times for him to know for sure that they were real, but right now, they looked flat…

'Oh I have no doubt that Floyd will come running to save you. No doubt at all. But alive or dead it doesn't matter. He'll still come for you. He'd not leave your rotting corpse again. Not here. Not like he did before.'

Any feeling of smugness Spencer might have been feeling was ripped away. 'What do you mean? I'm not dead. I'm here.'

'I was handed certain information about you and your crew. Being the welcoming committee it was important.' The woman thing stepped in front of Spencer wearing not much more than a leather strap between her legs and tassels on her nipples. 'Firstly I know that he left you there. You died and he left you to rot away. Maybe someone will find you, but not before the elements have destroyed you and not before the animals have eaten your flesh from your bones. No going back to that place, Spencer.' Reid ground his teeth by stayed silent. 'He tricked you, Spencer! He tricked you with his words and with his false promises.'

Now Spencer shook his head. 'You're wrong.'

'If you insist. I'm not here to make you see the error of his ways. If you don't know after all this time what a backstabbing bastard he is, then I think that you'll never see it…' Maybe the thing was going to say more but something appeared in the side of her head. Spencer stood where he was with his hands chained above his head, and standing on tip toes, looking at the thing which had appeared there. Another one joined it. Spencer would have said that they were arrows, but they didn't seem to be having much effect on it.

'It's a hologram or something.' Spencer called out. 'I don't know what's under it.'

A knife hilt now appeared in the top of the thing's leg and this it felt properly. It turned to where the flying weapons were coming from, but already one hand was flying out and grabbing Spencer by the throat. 'No boys, you're going to have to stop throwing your toys at me, or this throat is going to be crushed. Not that it's going to make a whole difference to the final outcome, but would have been nice to watch his squirm for a bit longer.'

Floyd frowned and Sam lowered the bow. 'Why didn't shooting it in the head kill it?' Sam hissed.

'Probably that's not its head.' Floyd hissed back and then in a louder voice he spoke to the creature. 'Now you will let go of him. Let go and stop being such a fucking bully. Face me. Show me what you are and then we can have a proper punch up. No weapons.'

Spencer was wriggling in his chains… He tried to kick out but the thing seemed to be able to keep out of reach even though it still had a hold around Spencer's neck. Floyd could see Spencer's face turning colour… 'Ah…' he took a step forwards. 'Just… just let him go.' But Floyd was no longer looking at the monster who was wearing some sort of demonic armour, but at Spencer's face.

Sam pulled on the back of Floyd's jeans. 'I'll distract it and you get Spencer.' He whispered.

'No… Sam no… just, I think we are meant to just… watch.'

'Watch. You're going to stand there and watch Spencer _die_? Why?'

'Because it just turns me on so fucking much…'

Sam elbowed Floyd out of the way and as he did he pulled the small sword from Floyd's belt.

Then Floyd pushed Sam aside. He was getting in the way! He wanted to see better. He needed a good view of this. He needed to see Spencer's struggles stop. He needed to see his feet do that dance of death. He needed to see… get closer… smell him… He wanted to see the light go out of his eyes and see that moment Spencer realised that he wasn't going to rescue him… what he was going to do was to wait till he was dead then turn the corpse to face the wall and fuck him. That's all Floyd wanted. 'Hurry up.' He moaned… 'Hurry the fuck up!' And though he was staring at Spencer who was doing all of the right things in the right order and dying beautifully, he wasn't talking to him. He was talking to Sam.

Spencer could see Floyd and Sam. He could see them jostling for position and he saw Floyd win that game. His rescuers had arrived and were doing nothing. At least Floyd was doing nothing. Floyd was staring at him, like you would look at a wonderful painting in a gallery or maybe it was the look you had on your face when you've seen the perfect horse which you've been looking for for a century or that new car. Spencer heard Floyd say for someone to hurry up. Was he so keen on seeing him die again so soon? Surely he'd not gone through all of that just to die again before he'd even begun this new peculiar life? He looked down the arm of the thing holding onto his neck and then beyond it at the wall where the flat things seemed to be pasted. He knew they could come forwards if they were called. This thing just wasn't calling them yet as it seemed fully engrossed in what it had in its hands and on Floyd.

'You left him to rot!' The thing laughed.

'Yup.' Floyd replied.

'You let him kill himself! You could have saved him.'

'Hurry the fuck up! Yes! Yes I could have saved him. I didn't want to save him. I wanted to feel him die in my arms. I wanted to fuck his corpse. I cant do that if I keep saving his damned life now can I?' He was looking at Spencer's wide hazel eyes as he said that. 'But that's not your business is it? That's between my bitch and me.'

At first Spencer thought that his vision was giving up on him. He could see greyness crawling around the edges and the white fireworks popping off, but the thing holding onto him seemed to be going fuzzy too, yet Floyd wasn't.

Sam walked quietly behind the thing. He pressed the point of the blade at around mid back. He could still see his arrows sticking out of the thing's head and he could see Floyd's knife in its leg. 'I'm going to kill you if you don't release him now.' Sam spoke clearly as he gave the weird flickering images on the wall a quick look. He thought that they were controlled by whatever was under this disguise and he wasn't sure he wanted to know exactly what it was. 'Ok…' He sighed and pushed the blade slowly into the back of the cloth robe the dark creature was wearing. He twisted it. He pulled it out and stuck it in again lower down and this… _this_ got its attention.

Spencer saw the creature shrink away. He saw it getting smaller and darker he heard it howling in pain and somewhere Sam was flying across the room and smacking against the wall. The flat people had gone. Floyd was turning horribly slowly to look at the creature and then quickly back to Spencer. He wrapped his arms around him, taking the weight off the chains. 'Hey babes. Sticky moment there. You need to start using your charms.'

'I've broken my back!' Sam was screaming.

'You mother fucker!' The demon was howling. 'I was giving you what you wanted!' It pulled the sword out of its back and threw it to the floor. Sam's arrows clattered away and landed next to it.

'You've no idea what I want!' Floyd shouted back at it. 'Leave. Get the hell out of here, you disgusting cunt! Get out before I come after you myself.'

'My back! Oh my fucking god! I'm dying over here!'

'Sam! Shut up…!'

'Floyd? Is that really you?' Spencer looked at those deep dark eyes and wanted to scream and cry and laugh and puke all at the same time. He tried. He did a good job of it too.

'Sam, find a key.'

'Screw you! I'm almost dead!'

'Then _I'll_ screw _you_! Find the key!'

'Spencer, listen to me. What it said…'

Spencer wanted to shake his head but his neck hurt too much. 'Doesn't matter now.'

'No… no it doesn't matter now. OK…' Floyd would have given Spencer a happy 'hello' snog but he smelt of puke and so didn't. Something rattled next to Floyd's foot. A key… At least Sam had a use. 'Thank you Sam.'

'I've not done anything. Wasn't me.' Floyd turned to look at Sam who was sitting on the floor with his legs splayed and his back against the wall. 'Seriously, Floyd, I've done something to my back.'

Floyd used the key to unlock Spencer and then slid down the wall and pulled Spencer onto his lap. 'Wow… you look beautiful.' Floyd whispered in Spencer's ear. 'Tell me babes… did that thing penetrate you?'

Spencer was rubbing at his neck and trying to swallow. 'Do what?'

'Did it rape you? Did it fuck you Spencer?'

A small quick frown crossed Spencer's face. 'Is that all you ever think about? Is that the only thing something can do to someone?'

'I don't get you… just answer me. Did it fuck you?'

'No… actually no. I fucked _it_.' Spencer licked his lips. 'If that gives you some kind of sick kicks then I'm sorry if it wasn't what you would have liked. It certainly wasn't what I would have liked.'

'You and that thing got a thing going? I hope you didn't get it pregnant, Spencer. A half monster cunt and half dead Spencer baby isn't going to be the cute babby you might want it to be.' Floyd jumped to his feet, pushing Spencer to the floor. He sounded angry. He sounded disappointed. He sounded pissed off.

'It wasn't my fault!' Spencer snapped.

'No, never is. Not your fault.'

Floyd snagged up his short sword and wiped off the dark goo from the blade. He then picked up his small throwing knife and returned it to its place on the baldric. Lastly he picked up the arrows and walked to Sam. He hunkered down and placed them next to him. 'You did good.'

'I did it because you'd lost your marbles. And then let the thing go. Why did you let it go?'

Floyd turned to look at Spencer who was sitting up now, and then towards where the creature had crawled off to. 'Because Spencer would have seen its true form and I don't think he's ready to see that yet.'

'You did him a favour? You believe that?'

Floyd grabbed Sam's hand. 'I'm all for favours today… what do you think Sam? Kill something because it looks like a monster? We'd not stand a fucking chance – in hell – if we killed everything. It's a war… you know? We need to gather friends around us.'

Sam let Floyd pull him to his feet. 'You're fucking crazy.' He hissed at Floyd. 'What if Spencer _did_ get that thing up the duff? What then?'

Floyd looked over at Spencer and then down at Sam. 'Then it will side with us. We already have two buddies. That's good don't you think?'

'Two?'

'Spider Lady and Rat Cunt. I would have preferred The Boy Wonder, but I guess that's you.'

'Why would Spider Lady team with us?' Sam replaced his bow in its holster and the arrows he inspected closely to see if there was damage to them.

'I dunno, Sam, but she could have and should have killed us both. Could easily have done that, yet she didn't.' He patted Sam on the head. 'Any ideas why she would have kept you alive? Any clue as to why she didn't kill me?'

Sam looked down at the arrows in his hands. 'No idea.'

Another clear lie and Floyd knew. 'OK… well as we don't know then there's no point in conjecture. I guess we'll find out. Maybe she just liked the look of you for some reason… or the look of me.'

'Or she wants friends? Someone to watch TV with and share a pizza?'

It was now Spencer who received a lecture from Floyd. 'You could have kept it back and don't look at me like that, you could have used things to keep it at bay.'

'I drew a circle. I tried a chant…'

'You cant just draw a circle, Spencer! Well yes you can… clearly you can, but you have to believe in what you're doing. It's not the physical thing of the circle, not like that… it's your belief.' He tapped Spencer's forehead. '…if you don't believe it's going to work then surely it wont. It's like praying your heart out to god when you don't believe. Why would he listen? Not that he does, but if he did… why? And it's the same with the chants and stuff, if you don't believe it why would the creatures that you're using it against?'

Spencer took his bag from Floyd and slung it over his shoulder. 'I've tried it. It didn't work. If I get into a car and the thing doesn't start I don't then get in it the following day expecting it to. I know it wont. I would have belief in that. This stuff hasn't started, Floyd. It's not working for me.'

Floyd nodded. Sam was now standing at his side. 'Fine… but maybe it's working and you're not seeing it? I have come in contact now with two very small insignificant demons and killed neither of them, but likewise they didn't kill any of us. She did something quite vile to you, Spencer and really we need to find somewhere so you can wash cos you stink of old cunt, but Sam wasn't hurt either… So ta da! Your protections worked.' A bit of Floydian Bullshit never hurt anyone… at least Floyd didn't think it would. 'So can you please have a bit more faith in them next time?'

Spencer pressed his lips together in a hard line. 'Why did nothing try to take you?' Spencer wanted to know.

'Because it's me who's being tested? That's my guess anyway. They wanted me to come and show my loyalty and get my boys.'

Again Spencer nodded. 'Sam had been taken by something, then I assume and you rescued him?'

'Indeed.'

'I see. Well shall we go find somewhere to bunk down for the night? I need some rest. I'm tired.' Actually Spencer was feeling a bit hurt and confused. Had Floyd really left him to rot? Had he really practiced necrophilia on him… would he have done that again here today? All the old doubts about the youth of Sam started to creep back again. After all it was Sam he found first; went looking for - rescued… Sam first. Sam.


	31. Chapter 31

31

They sat in a three person circle again. Each facing each. The place where Spencer had been found was an hour or so behind them now. The ground they were sitting on had much less dust. The real floor showed through in places making it look like black tumours pushing through white. Floyd had questioned them both again on exactly what had happened.

Spencer had been evasive on some of his experience, but not because he was hiding something, but because it made him feel sick to think about it. Sam though… Sam was just out right lying and Floyd didn't know why. He kept asking him… 'What else? Why did it gag you? What was that mark on your neck? Did it tell you something I should know?' Sam just shrugged and said that he thought the thing on his neck had been what had put him to sleep… he couldn't remember anything else.

Floyd pretended to let it go. He wanted to talk to Spencer about this, away from Sam, but the dog was sticking to Floyd's heels like the good slut he was… and that was something odd too… Sam might be _talking_ like Sam, but he wasn't acting like him.

'You know that if something happened; something bad, that you need to tell me. I'll not be cross. I just need to know.'

Sam was pulling his hair back and tightening the hair tie. 'I've nothing to say.' Sam told him.

'OK… but if you think of something.'

Now Sam spun on Floyd. A vicious angry look crossed his face. 'I _said_ that nothing happened. You want me to fight your fight, then you're going to have to start believing me. I'm not going to discuss it again. Get out of my face and stop wishing things on me that didn't happen. I survived here for fucking months alone. I don't need you and I certainly don't need Spencer, so please don't for one fucking second think that I'd be lost without you cos I'd not be. It was Spencer's fucking fault that thing got me. His damned fault! So get off my back and out of my face and leave me alone.'

Floyd did what Sam requested, he backed off a bit. He watched Sam though. He watched him carefully. Floyd had two loyal men. One was no good at anything because of his lack of understanding and belief and the other was keeping secrets and lying to him. This wasn't the crew he'd hoped for. He knew that Sam was capable of looking after himself. He liked to play the poor lost child act, but when the chips were down and when Sam had no options he was the thing Floyd had been training for so long.

So they sat in their circle and nibbled on food. Sam pulled out dried rations from his bag and nibbled down slowly. Spencer also ate slowly from his rations. Floyd didn't eat; he just watched. Sam had been here for months yet still had most of the rations they'd packed… Spencer had most of his too, but by what they'd both said Spencer had hardly been here a day before he was taken… Again it was Sam who was bothering Floyd and he was about to ask Sam what the hell he'd been eating all the time he'd been down here and then changed his mind. For now no one was arguing. The place was calm. He thought something was following them, but it was a long way back and whatever it was hadn't caused problems yet so he would leave it for now. Spencer was again looking through the book.

'You don't know all of that yet?'

Spencer looked up and nodded. 'Yes. I know it all.'

'Then why are you reading it again? You don't need to.'

The book slammed shut and Spencer put it back in the bag. 'It's not that I wanted to see the words or be reminded. I wanted…'

'You'll not find truth in that book, Spencer. It's in your head and in your gut. You can read the words all your life and never believe in them. What you have to do is see the truth and have faith.'

Spencer smiled. 'You sound like some Christian Preacher.'

'When you were a kid and your mum took you to see that magician… you didn't question the tricks and the disappearing… you were awed by it. You believed it.'

'No, Floyd. I questioned it. I looked for mirrors and smoke. I looked out for trap doors and…'

'OK! You believe that I am what I am? That Sam is what he is? You've seen what Sam can do by twisting time, what I can do by putting life into the dying? You've seen that? No smoke, no mirrors.'

'Floyd, you have told me on so many occasions that you're not demonic.' Spencer looked around him self. 'But this is somewhere familiar to you… where we were before, the tent, that was your home… so… what am I meant to think?'

'You're meant to believe what I tell you. I'm not demonic. I wasn't born here and it's not turned me into something I wasn't…'

'Well.' Sam snapped. 'Maybe you're wrong there. If you were such a lovely thoughtful person then you'd not be here would you?'

Floyd's hand twitched on his lap. He wanted to back hand Sam for talking to him like that, but he held back. Again for the peace.

'What it boils down to, Spencer…' Sam spoke again. 'Is that Floyd has no fucking idea where he is or what he's meant to be doing. He doesn't know whose side he should be fighting on. He just has a big old empty head, but I do. I know. This is my home more than a lot of places. How did you think I managed to survive? Floyd's not of this place anymore than you are. He's a clueless idiot. He needs me. He needs me a lot, which is why he rescued me first. Give him a few days and he'll not even be able to wipe his own arse and not get me to help him.' Sam suddenly stood. 'Now, I'm going to go have a piss and a shit and I don't need you following me or protecting me.'

Floyd stood too. 'Well I might need to have a slash too… and I'm sure Spencer's busting, so let's find somewhere…'

Sam shook his head. 'I thought I was going stir crazy down here alone… all that time alone with only the mad to talk to, but now I see that what I was feeling wasn't crazy, but was actually maybe the first bit of sanity I've ever had. I want to have a squat and a piss. I want to have some personal time. You're doing my head in. Just leave me. I'll scream if I need you.'

He didn't take his bow or his arrows, but the knife was still strapped to his leg. Floyd went to follow, but Spencer's hand on his arm stopped him. 'Let him have some space.' Spencer told Floyd. 'He's been down here alone for a long time.'

'Alone? What the fuck? Why? Where the hell is everything? None of this is making any bloody sense Spencer. Have you seen the state Sam is in? He's got a zit on his chin the size of China and's not mentioned it once. He's got scabs on his knees and elbows, he stinks, his teeth are disgusting.'

Spencer nodded. 'I'd noticed that too.'

'Well there's something wrong.'

'Can I ask you something and get the truth in reply?' Spencer muttered.

Floyd now turned to Spencer and placed his hands on Spencer's bony hips. 'Truth.'

'Was Sam right? Do you know what you're doing?'

This was a double raised eyebrow time. 'Do I know that I'm doing? You want me to answer that? Me? Honestly? Why?'

'Just answer me.'

Floyd dug his fingertips into the soft flesh just above Spencer's hips. 'Truth… Well… I know what this place is. I've never been here before. I don't know if Sam's been here but I haven't. I don't know the way out. I don't know what we're going to eat once this food has gone. I don't know why we're not walking on hot coals and screaming for the pain to cease. This isn't what I was expecting. It's hot… yeah…' Floyd stopped talking and looked in the direction Sam had walked. 'What the hell was that noise?'

Spencer shook his head. 'Sam… He…'

'Sam makes that odd sound when he takes a shit?'

'It's not something I listen to. I don't know.'

'He makes that odd sound when he's masturbating.' Floyd decided.

'Then it's good that we leave him alone for a while. Tell me what you know of this place. Tell me as much as you can.'

'It was drawn… on a bit of paper. A map… some vague descriptions of monsters…' Floyd shrugged. 'I wasn't really listening.'

o-o-o

Sam _had_ gone to relieve himself, at least in that respect he'd been honest. He was hungry and thirsty. Sam wanted his dinner. Not disgusting dried rations he's been pretending to eat, but something far nicer than that. He walked quickly around a knobbly outcropping and already had the front of his jeans open and his hands where he wanted them to be.

'Ouch.' Something stung the back of his neck. He swiped at the place with one of his hands and pulled out a small barb. 'What?' He thought about yelling for help or just screaming in general, but his knees were already folding and he was pitching onto his face.

'Hush.' A dry voice muttered. 'I'll be back in a few seconds.'

Sam heard the voice. He felt the hand on his back, stroking him gently. He felt the hot rush of warmth over the hand which he still had hold of himself with. Somewhere he could hear Floyd and Spencer talking. He couldn't make out the words but he could hear the different tones and accents. Sam tried to move but like when the spider had caught him, he couldn't. All he could see was the floor just above where his nose was pressing down into the dust. Choking to death on bone dust hadn't been the way Sam had thought he'd go.

Floyd felt something stick into the back of his neck much the same as Sam had. He shouted at Spencer. 'Down.' And tried to pull him out of the way… Floyd saw the look on Spencer's face, firstly shock, then pain… maybe total and absolute mind numbing fear and then as Sam had, Spencer's knees gave out and he slipped forwards onto his face. Floyd though turned to look at the attacker.

'I should have killed you before.' Floyd snarled at spider lady, as he pulled one of his small throwing knives.

'Yes, you probably should have. Too late now.' But Floyd was still standing… he had meant to kill the thing. Really a split second would have been all it would have taken, but Floyd hesitated. He frowned at the thing and opened his mouth to ask something. A barb smacked him between the eyes and this time it took effect quickly. The knife dropped from his hand and he took a small unsteady step forwards.

'If you hurt my boys, I'll kill myself just so I can come back and haunt you.'

'Floyd, the only reason you would kill yourself would be if you made a deal with someone to drag your hide back again… and I don't think that's going to happen, do you? Mind your step… you look woozy.'

'You fucking bitch! What do you want with me?'

The creature walked forwards, standing on four of her legs with the other four legs crossed over her ample chest. 'What do I want with you? _You_? Don't make me laugh. I don't make deals with the likes of you. You have nothing to offer me. Sleep… little angel… sleep… dream a little dream or two…'

Floyd didn't have dreams so much as nightmares. He was staked out somewhere… over something which was burning his back and bubbling the skin. He could feel the blisters popping and he could feel his skin sweating out blood. There was a sound, so high pitched that he wanted to open his mouth and scream… just a different noise from the caterwauling going on, but he couldn't open his mouth. Something was holding it in place. He tried opening his eyes, but like it is so often in dreams they seemed to be closed and yet open at the same time. He just knew that if he could open them properly he would see the real and not the false that he could see through his eyelids. The flesh on his back cooked… the fats hissed and spat… his hair caught fire, his heart exploded in his chest at about the same time as he took in a gulp of fire and seared his lungs… Something was pulling the flesh away from his bones and as the screaming sound died away and he felt the hands rummaging inside his rib cage…

'You should never have come here, Floyd. You don't belong.'

Spencer's nightmare was different. He was also tied down. At least he thought he was at first. There was a strong smell of disinfectant and chemicals. He was cold. So damned cold! It should be hot. He was in hell! Why wasn't it hot? He couldn't open his eyes, but it felt almost as though he was floating.

'Are you sure you want to do this?' Spencer didn't know that voice.

'Of course. I owe him that much at least.' Gideon? Was that Gideon? Why was he here? What was going on?

'I assume it's not the first…?'

The sound of fabric moving… maybe someone walking or pushing hands into pockets. 'In the job I had I saw too much of this. It's why I left, but as I say. I owe him this.'

Spencer could feel something moving away from his face… He wanted so much to open his eyes, but couldn't. He wanted to reach out and grab Gideon and warn him… warn him to stay away… warn him of Floyd! But he didn't. He lay there and he listened.

'Oh god.' That was Gideon again. 'Why did you do this Reid?' Spencer felt something touch his hair.

'I'm sorry sir, there's not much left… wild life…' The feeling of something beginning to be closed over his face again.

'Wait, not yet.' This time it felt like the back of a hand resting on the side of his face… 'Can you give me a moment alone with him?' More sounds of someone walking and then Jason's voice again. 'You deserved this. You know that bastard Flanders killed you then raped your damned arse don't you? Out there in the forest, thinking no one would know? Well we know… and now you know too. The only reason he let you die was so he could abuse you and not have you fight… oh and obviously so you could keep his diseased dick company in hell… Time to go back.' Something hot and wet splattered on Spencer's face… Spit? Did Gideon just spit on him. 'May your rotting remains burn in hell. It's what you deserve.' And then that floating sliding feeling alone with the terrible cold.

Sam's dream was different again. In his dream someone was offering him everything he really wanted. No need to go on this great adventure with the two biggest jerks alive, or dead… no… he could have his dream come true now! What did he want? Just ask… Mothering? He craved the need to be nurtured.

'Poor Sammy boy… never had a mother to suckle on. Here… have me and you can feed on my milk and feed my babies. I'll love you. I'll hold you and protect you. I will wipe your tears away and offer you cherry pie on a winter day… I've got everything you'd ever want. You don't need those others. You don't want sex, Sam, you think that having sex means that someone loves you. They don't. No one does. Everyone thinks you're a freak… you cant live topside and you cant survive down here. Let me comfort you. Suckle from me Sammy. I'll be your mother. I'll look after you… don't cry, my baby… don't cry… it's all going to be great. Just lead those two trouble makers to their doom and you'll have anything and everything. I'll even grow a dick for you, as you know already… just say the word, Sam. Just tell me that you want me.'

Sam did suckle on the thing which was cradling him. Thick warm (lumpy) milk squirted down his throat. It tasted a bit like the juice from a demon egg and a bit like pus and a bit like death and blood and milk… He suckled greedily, wanting more and more. He bit down with this teeth and kneaded with his fists like a kitten trying to get milk from its mother. He rubbed against one of the many legs and whimpered and moaned.

'Just say the word Sam…'

'No.'

'You will want this again…'

'You will offer it anyway.' Sam told her.

'Don't be so damned sure.' A voice which sounded like a dozen all talking slightly out of time to each other.

'I know you will.'

'Enough. Get off me. They will be waking up soon.'

But he dug his fingernails into the dark, hard, hot flesh around her wet scabby, chewed nipples. 'I need more!' His voice was muffled by the demon flesh and bubbly and thick from the liquid in his mouth.

'You get more later. Do what I told you. Lead your friends to their doom.'

'No. I wont.'

'Why not? What have they got to offer you now?'

'It's nothing to do with that. I know what you did to me, and I know you need me to stay alive… and I'll need your milk, so I know you'll come and offer me this… and I know you'll fuck me and let me fuck you. I know. Get me some nice things to wear… you know what I like. I want to look nice. Oh and I need a mirror.'

The creature stood. Sam's mouth made a sucking spitting sound as he lost contact with the thing. 'What do I get in return?'

Sam wiped a dribble of something off his chin with the back of his hand. 'My silence. That's all. You know what he'll do if I tell him. So really I think that my silence will be my part of this, and you will in return let me have you when I need you and you will get me a mirror and some nice clothes.'

o-o-o

It was Spencer who woke up first. He rolled onto his back and still being partially in his dream he went to pull whatever it was – he suspected it was a body bag – away from his face, but of course now it had gone. He lay there taking in deep breaths and staring at the very far distant cavern roof. Had Spencer not known otherwise he would have thought it was stars he was looking at.

He could remember his dream. Gideon had come to identify his remains. That confused him. Why dream of Gideon after this length of time? He pushed up onto his elbows and looked over at Floyd who was laying on his front. He had obviously had a bad dream too… His shirt was stuck to his back in sweat and his hair was actually dripping water. Reid got slowly to his feet and walked over to him.

'Floyd?'

There was maybe a soft moan from somewhere, but it was from away where Sam had gone. Spencer looked over in that direction and then back to Floyd. 'Floyd? Wake up.' He gave him a gentle shove as he crouched down next to him. 'Hey.'

Floyd opened his eyes. He was burning still, though he thought he was off the barbeque or fire-pit he'd been cooking on. Someone was there though, demanding bits of him. Wanting his flesh and trying to pull bits off. Oh yes, he could feel those fingers prodding and looking for a tender part. He couldn't let that happen. 'Touch me again and I'm going to have to pull your head off your shoulders. Just warning you. Don't you fucking touch me.'

'Floyd, it's me. It's Spencer.'

'Oh you really expect me to believe that?' Floyd rolled onto his back and brought his knees up ready to kick out at whatever it was trying to rip his skin off. He looked up at Spencer's face and gave his head a quick shake. 'That… what just happened?'

'I had a bad dream.' Spencer placed a hand on Floyd's chest. 'You need to slow down your heart rate or I'm going to be dragging a corpse through hell.'

'I told you not to touch me. I said that didn't I? I'm sure I said that, so why is your hand on me?'

Spencer snatched his hand away. 'Well if you're OK I'm going to go and look for Sam.'

'I'm here.' A voice spoke from behind Spencer.

Reid spun on his heels but stayed crouched and Floyd pushed up on one elbow. 'Nice, Sam. Very nice. You going to plug us full of arrows.'

Sam lowered his bow and re-holstered it. 'Cant be too careful. Better safe than sorry wouldn't you say?' Sam turned away and walked back to the small gathering of belongings they'd been sitting with.

'Does he seem strange to you?' Floyd asked Spencer.

'You are asking me if Sam seems strange? That's not possible to answer. He's always strange. What hit us? What was that?'

'Madame Spider Bitch. I just don't know why. But I'm gonna find out.'

They sat again in their circle of three. Floyd already knew what had happened to himself and to Spencer, he was now interested in what happened to Sam. His reply of 'Nothing happened,' didn't satisfy Floyd one tiny bit.

'I started to have a piss and as you can see, got interrupted and peed down my leg. Happy now?'

Floyd was a hell of a long way from happy. He could still feel the phantom fingers pulling off his burning flesh. He could still smell himself cooking. If he had a miserable dream he was going to be sure that the other two did also. 'What happened.' Floyd persisted. 'Tell me everything.'

Sam jumped up to his feet. 'I've told you! I went to have a piss, something caught my neck… then I woke up again.'

'Dreams?'

Sam paced back and forth. 'Did _you_ have a dream?'

'Wasn't the question. Did you have a dream?'

'Well you know what? I don't have to be interrogated by you. I had a dream… maybe, yes. Nothing important.'

Floyd nodded and indicated that Sam should sit again. 'Then I'll tell you about mine shall I?' And he did. He described how it felt to be cooked alive and have your flesh eaten off your bones. He told Sam and Spencer that what he dreamed about was the real hell, not this place. This wasn't hell… this was something else.

'A clearing house.' Sam told Floyd. 'It's to get rid of the chaff before we are moved forwards. You should know that. I thought you knew everything. This is like boot camp without the crew cuts. What did you dream about, Spencer?' Sam leaned forwards to peer at Spencer in the eyes. 'Were you burning in hell too?'

'No. I was slowly rotting in a morgue chill drawer. Gideon was there.'

Floyd put a hand on Sam's shoulder and pushed him back out of Spencer's face. 'Gideon? Why that old fart? Why were you dreaming of him? What was he after?'

'He was like a father to me.' Spencer muttered.

'No, Spence. He wasn't. He dragged you into a life where you had to carry a gun. He failed to protect you once he'd done that. He almost got you killed by sending you with that whore JJ into the lair of a lunatic. He wasn't like a father. A father doesn't do that to a child. You were an experiment. One which went wrong. He ran from you. He ran and left you. So what was he after? What did he say to you?'

'It was just a dream. He told me that my rotting remains will burn in hell.' Spencer wiped sweat off his brow with his forearm. 'But it was just a dream.'

'A prophecy.' Sam muttered. 'It's what's going to happen. It's the last page of the final chapter. Floyd will get what's coming to him and you will join him. Happy Families and all that shit. My dream didn't involve any burning or death. Mine was happy, being loved, needed, comforted, appreciated, wanted… you know?'

Floyd thought that was bullshit and told Sam so. 'That's bullshit and whilst we are here exchanging shit, I would like to know what you've been eating since you've been here.'

Spencer knew. He looked at Sam who sat back down in a cloud of dust and picked at the wet fabric on his tatty jeans. He knew that Floyd was going to go ballistic. But Sam saw himself now as a soldier of hell and not Floyd's little _go get it_ dog. He had been sent on this mission to survive alone for ages and fucking _ages_ for a reason; he was better than Floyd and so much… oh so much better than Spencer who was a useless mother fucker who couldn't even keep watch for a few hours and not fall asleep and get caught. 'Eggs. Demon eggs.' Floyd opened his mouth to start screaming abuse at Sam, but Sam held up a hand. 'Wait, before you go off on one. I was alone. I had to live somehow.'

'Then eat your fucking rations, you stupid, stupid fuck!'

Sam was on his feet again. 'Don't call me that. Don't you bloody well call me a stupid fuck! I'm alive. I wasn't much hurt, only occasionally and not fatally injured… I worked it out my self. I had no clue if you were coming here too and I waited for you! I could have gone on alone, but I waited. So don't you call me a stupid fuck! They trusted that I could survive. They tested me and I passed the test! I am a warrior of hell now and I have a place. I will be chosen. I will get what I want! I'm not going to be dragged to the pits by you or by Spencer! I'm not going to…'

Floyd's fist in Sam's mouth shut him up. In the past that fist would have knocked Sam off his feet, but today it didn't. Sam just shook his head and wiped a dribble of blood off his mouth.

'Don't you _ever_ hit me again. I'm no longer your dog. I don't serve you. You cant order me around and push me about.'

'A warrior of hell?' Floyd sounded amused, but Spencer could see that dark look on Floyd's face. 'You want to know why you were here for so long alone? It was a fucking punishment! It was meant to kill you slowly! You stupid son of a bitch! Do you know what happens when you sup on demon flesh? You must know! Remember your damned lessons! Remember what you've been taught. You bloody idiot!'

'Eggs! Not flesh. The only demon flesh I would sup on would be yours! And it wasn't a punishment… I survived!'

'Sam, I'm not a demon.'

'No, you're right. My mistake. You're not even able to claim that! You're nothing! You're an immortal nothing!'


	32. Chapter 32

32

Floyd pounced this time. No second chances. He threw himself at Sam with all of his not to be underestimated strength and flattened Sam into the dust. Spencer watched the white cloud fly up around them… He couldn't see the flying fists or the knees making contact with groins. He couldn't see the way Sam's fist smacked at the side of Floyd's face or the way Floyd's hands gripped around Sam's neck. He could, though hear the unholy screaming they were both making. First Floyd on top and battering with hands and crushing with knees and then Sam on top scratching and spitting blood and howling out words which now Spencer had read that book, seemed slightly familiar… Then again Floyd and the crushing hands on Sam's throat…

There was blood. Spencer could see that. It was flying out and soaking into the powdery floor leaving what looked almost like flowers, roses maybe, scattered over the floor.

'Stop it!' It was Floyd who Spencer made a grab for, trying to get him off Sam. 'Just stop this!' He pulled on the back of Floyd's waistband and had one of Floyd's elbows planted in his face as a result.

Floyd did get to his feet though. He stood with Sam still screaming, kicking, thrashing and Floyd still holding Sam by the throat. 'You stupid cunt!' Floyd screamed as he threw Sam, who did a summersault and landed hard on his rump.

Spencer sat and wiped his own blood off his face. He wasn't sure what Sam had done or said to put Floyd into such a rage, but if he didn't step in and do something Floyd was going to tear Sam apart. Floyd seemed to be gathering him self for another bout, Sam was wriggling back, still on his backside, pushing back using the heels of the sandals he had on his feet. 'You cant kill me.' Sam was blubbering… Spencer wasn't sure if he was begging or just passing on information, but he was right. Floyd couldn't. _Shouldn't_.

Reid jumped to his feet. Floyd was doing his swaying slightly side to side crap with bloody fists at his side. It was to Sam that Spencer went. He didn't talk, or even look at him too closely, there was something oddly alluring about a bloody sweaty bruised Sam. 'Floyd, you'll have to go through me to get to Sam.' He words sounded not brave, they sounded down right stupid.

'I don't need the help of Floyd's fuck.' Sam hissed.

'Get out of the damned way Spencer. I don't want to have to kill you too.'

Spencer stood his ground. 'Look, I don't care if Sam doesn't want my help. I don't know what the hell got into the pair of you, but if you don't sit and talk we are all going to be dead and your dream, Floyd, that will come true sooner than you wanted it to.'

'Get out of my damned way.' Floyd took a step forwards.

'NO… you don't want him dead. I know you don't.'

'And how the fuck would you know what I want? You never know what I fucking well want! That's not Sam… I don't know what it is, but it's not my Sam.'

'Fucker's right. I don't belong to you!' Sam was now getting to his feet. 'So bring it on big boy. Kill me, but you cant! You might like to, but nope, you cant do it. You love me. You need me…' Sam was glaring through narrowed eyes, his head slightly down letting the blood drip from his nose and mouth onto his feet. 'You'd never kill me. You'd kill _for_ me, you'd _die_ for me, but kill me? You don't have the fucking balls to destroy me. Not here. Maybe up top, but not down here.'

Floyd took three deep breaths and let them out slowly as he walked towards Spencer. 'Babes, turn around. Put your back to me and remove your shirt.'

'I hardly think…' Spencer started.

'I don't want to fuck you! Just do it.'

Spencer gave Floyd a curious look. 'Very well. If it's going to help.' He turned slowly but before he got as far as undoing the buttons, Floyd tore the shirt from his back.

For a few seconds Floyd just stood looking at the bruised and scraped back Spencer had presented him with, but then Floyd placed a finger on Spencer's back and moved it slowly up his spine and then across to the scar Floyd had given him a few life times ago. 'OK… now turn and face me.' Again Spencer moved slowly, sure that something was going to jump on him and tear his heart out of his chest. 'See that Sam? Can you see that? It is a mark of bondsmanship. The three of us. Not just Spencer, but you too. Is your mind so clouded that you don't realise that?'

'That means nothing.' Sam hissed between his teeth. 'I'm not your dog.'

'Then come forward and touch it. Place your hand on it, if it means nothing… what's stopping you?'

'Your stupid games.' Sam moved forwards slightly and Floyd placed his hands on Spencer's shoulders. '

'Then touch it.' Floyd moved his face close to Spencer's; cheek against cheek.

'You cant make me.' But Sam was still walking forward and now his bloody hand was reaching forwards and his voice had changed from the spiteful malevolent one to his more usual moaning whine.

'Do it! Do as I tell you to do, dog! Touch the mark.'

Spencer felt Sam's hot sticky hand rest on the scar on his back. It made it tingle and sting as though it was still raw and bloody. Floyd felt Spencer's muscles tighten, but he had a strong hold on him now. Spencer was not going to go running anywhere.

'Now get on your damned knees.' Floyd spat at Sam who was looking now down at his feet.

'Not for you.' Sam dropped his hand from Spencer's back.

'On your fucking slut knees now!'

Sam sniffed up some snot and wiped a pathetic tear off his face. 'You cant do this to me. You cant make me!'

Now words were whispered in Spencer's ear. 'Move back… sit, watch… masturbate, I don't care, but don't you wander off and don't you try to stop me.' Floyd dropped one hand from Spencer's shoulder and pushed him aside with the other. 'Get on your knees!' Floyd howled at Sam. And Sam dropped like his knees had turned to water. He dropped and placed his hands on the floor in front of him. There was still blood dripping but it had slowed down. Sam spat out a lump of something dark which looked horribly like a lump of liver. 'Look at me dog.' Floyd now stood in front of Sam. 'Look up at me! Show me your dirty deceitful face!'

'I'm not deceitful.' Sam kept his head down. He felt sick, so very sick. He didn't want to be on his knees. He didn't want to have to crawl after Floyd on his belly forever. He wanted to be loved! Why was that so hard for Floyd to understand… to be loved and to feel whole. Sam cried some self pity tears, but didn't look up at Floyd.

'Then tell me what you're hiding.'

'I've nothing to hide.'

'I have let you off your leash for too long. You've run rabid with ideas… thoughts that you are something other than you are. You were created for me. You _do_ understand what that means don't you?'

'You cant do this.' Sam spoke between gritted teeth.

'Sam, I don't want to have to do this, but so help me I will if you don't stop fucking around. Look at me!'

Slowly Sam lifted his head and stared into Floyd's face. There was a look of hate, loathing, desperation, greed, need… love… it wasn't there for long though. Floyd kicked him under the chin hard enough to take someone's head off. Sam flew back and landed in a silent lump on the ground. 'He'll learn.' Floyd muttered.

Spencer made to move across to Sam. To see if he was still alive, maybe? 'Don't touch him. Leave him. He will never learn if he doesn't feel what it's like to disobey me.' Floyd took Spencer's hand. 'I don't suppose you want to kneel for me too do you?'

'You killed him.' Spencer groaned.

'Given him a sore head, not killed him. I still don't know what he's hiding... Knees… for me.'

'I don't have to do what you command me to do, Floyd. This isn't the time…'

'Knees! Why are you fucking me around today! I'm in pain… get on your knees and kiss me better, bitch.'

All things considered… the knee Floyd had gotten to the balls and the battering he'd taken from that dog the tongue work Spencer did on Floyd was remarkable in the way it not only sent Floyd into a wild screaming lust as he pulled Spencer's head in closer… He didn't care if Reid couldn't actually breathe. Being blown by the dead was just – orgasmic! He didn't though, close his eyes. He watched Sam closely… he watched the filth crawl over the floor and lay down next to his bow. He knew Sam had done something. Something very stupid… something more than drinking from demon eggs, which was a foul thing to do… very foul… almost on the same level as chowing down on brains, but that wasn't it… not was such. Sam probably thought that's what it was though. He gave Spencer a shot of something hot, straight down the back of his throat. Keeping Spencer in place was easy… just had to top him up regularly. He pushed Spencer back away and buttoned himself up again. 'Thanks Babes. Get lunch ready.' He then walked back over to Sam. 'Tell me what you've agreed to.' He spoke down at Sam.

'Nothing.' Sam whined back. 'Honestly, there's nothing. I've not done anything or agreed to anything.'

The lie came off Sam in a tidal wave of bullshit. Floyd just nodded. 'I can help you if you tell me.'

'I don't need your help.' Sam spat blood into the dust. 'Just leave me alone.'

'As long as you remember who the hell is in charge and who's the dog. Are you my dog, Sam?'

'No… I'm your cunt-boy.'

Floyd nodded. 'Clean yourself up. You're a mess.'

There was no day and night in this place, but there hadn't been where they'd been before. It didn't matter one way or the other to Floyd, Sam was very used to this sort of thing too, but it was giving Spencer headaches. He rummaged through his bag looking for something he could chew on to relieve it. Floyd smoked a cheroot and Sam sat with his arms wrapped around his shins. Floyd was talking slowly…

'Beyond this part of the cavern is a hall way of pillars.' He waited for Sam to interrupt and tell him he was wrong, but Sam was staying quiet. 'The pillars are made of a mixture of different things, some are just solid rock, some are like giant glass tubes and some are mirrors. There are more of the mirrors than anything else, and some are disguised as something else.'

Spencer spoke as he chewed around a root of something. He handed a bit to Sam who shook his head. 'Disguised at what?'

'Mostly glass disguised as mirrors. They're traps. So when we reach there we need to be careful. Try to avoid your own reflection. Be very aware that the reflections could be distorted. You might think you see a vile monster, but it's just Sam.'

'Screw you.' Sam muttered. 'And how do you know so much when you've never been here?'

'Jibb talked a lot. A fountain of information.'

Sam just shook his head and then rested it on his knees.

'Anyway, there's some traps. If you walk into them, they suck you in and imprison you. Glass cant be broken, but we need to be very careful and Spencer maybe there's a little enchantment you know? Some sort of trap… like a devil's trap? Something to protect you from that?'

'You should have brought Jibb with you if he was so useful.' Sam peered out from behind a curtain of hair.

Floyd looked at Sam, pointed… and said one word. 'Silence.' And Sam's head dropped back to his knees. At least for now he had the dog back on the leash. How long until he slipped it again though? Floyd had no idea. He carried on talking quietly to Spencer who had his book resting on his knees and a knuckle massaging his right temple. 'You OK there?' Floyd asked him and got a nod back in reply. 'You know if it was just like some side show on a seaside pier I'd not be concerned, but it might take us days to get through and you need to be aware of the dangers.' Spencer just gave a nod again. 'So no wandering off and don't tough the mirrors.' Once again just a nod. 'So what's going on? Found something?'

Now Spencer looked up at Floyd, he pushed hair off his face and sighed. 'What you did to Sam, do you do that to me?'

Floyd looked at Spencer with surprise on his face. 'What that…?' He pointed to Sam.

'Forcing him…'

The look of surprise left Floyd's face and was replaced by something darker. 'You think I need to? You think that I don't have control over you? Don't you do things for me because you want to?'

Spencer shrugged. 'Did you leave me to rot in the forest? Did you let me die and then abuse me?'

That look of surprise was back again. Floyd moved slightly so that he was facing Spencer. 'I didn't abuse you. I made love to you.'

'I was dead; you let me die.'

Floyd ran a finger down Spencer's bare arm. 'I didn't let you die, so much as I didn't stop you killing yourself. There's a difference there I think. It was your choice, Spence. I didn't tell you to do that.'

Spencer closed the book. 'Didn't you?'

'Now what's that meant to mean? I wasn't there!'

Reid touched his forehead. 'Here. You were here. I thought, I really thought that I would just…'

'Rise like an angel. Your body re-absorbed into the ether. To become a new star in the night sky… What a load of crap. You wanted to die. I let you. Then I fucked you. What's so terrible about that? It was not your body any more. Not yours to say what does and doesn't happen to it. It was mine. I was with you when you twitched your last twitch and pissed your last piss… I was there as you turned cold and that…' Floyd placed a finger over Spencer's lips, '…blueness took you.' Floyd's finger moved down and he placed his hand over Spencer's heart. 'I could have started this beating again… is that what you're asking? Are you asking why I didn't scream in pain and anguish and haul you back again? Well, I wanted you here with me. So sue me. Oh and I wanted your arse. So yes, I left you to rot. I let the animals consume you, the bugs eat away at your face, laying eggs in your ears and up your nose. Things… things… just had to change Spence. You can see that now cant you? I needed you here with me.'

'You put ideas into my head. Ideas I couldn't stop. The same way you made Sam touch the scar or kneel for you.'

Floyd shrugged. 'How else was I going to get you alone with me?'

'You selfish…'

'Bastard? Call me a bastard… call me a son of a bitch… call me a mother fucker! Come on Spencer! Tell me… what am I?'

'I don't know any more. I thought I was your lover.'

'Ah ha… That was past tense. What do you think I am now Spencer?'

'I know that you rescued Sam first.'

'Damned right he did.' Sam sniped.

'Because he had weapons and was closer. Surely you're not sulking over that? I got you didn't I? But that doesn't answer my question. Do you love me?'

'Oh great!' Spencer stood, toppling his book to the ground. 'You are impossible! I killed myself for you!'

'You just said I made you do that. Don't back peddle me Spencer. Either you died for me or you died because of me. Which one is it? It seems like a simple enough question.'

'I love you damnit! I love you! I've never loved anyone the way I love and need you with me! I lose my mind, my purpose, my ability to feel anything when I'm not with you!'

'I'm gonna puke.' Sam again.

'I tried. I tried to move on and it wasn't possible. I cant replace you.'

There were gagging puking sounds coming from Sam now.

'Ah ha.' Floyd said and then turned to Sam. 'You OK there buddy?'

'No. I think you damaged my internals.'

Floyd didn't care right then if Sam's balls had been crushed to a pate. He wanted to get moving again. Time moved in odd ways, backwards, forwards… even sideways out of time and back again… and not always at the same speed. Floyd had no idea how much time he had and he wasn't going to go into conference with Sam. He trusted Sam no further than Sam could puke… and that was usually on his feet. They walked in a line, one behind the other, as Floyd had suggested right from the start. Sam in front where Floyd could keep a close eye on him, Spencer behind Sam for safety reasons and Floyd last… an eye on everyone. That was good.

Sam had an arrow knocked and ready. He felt ill. He felt like he was going to explode. He kept having to stop to throw up and this was something which interested Floyd quite a bit and even came to Spencer's notice. Sam would bend over, make some dreadful gut wrenching sounds and spew onto the ground in front of him. Sam would then crouch down, wipe his mouth and chin clean and prod at the mess as though he was searching for something.

'Lost something Sammy-boy?' Floyd called over to him.

'Only my stomach.' Sam replied.

Floyd crouched down next to him and had a look at what Sam was looking at. It was a thick yellowish bile he'd puked up. 'Nice. If you feel too ill to carry on we can stop and rest up again.'

'First you beat me half to death and use some mind control shit on me and then you feel sympathy? Fuck you. I can keep going.'

Enough said. Floyd moved back again, but that feeling that something was following them was there again. That Spider Bitch was there. He knew it. He just didn't know why it would be keeping its distance. Creatures like that acted on instinct. What instinct was it that was forcing it to leave the place it had nested and follow the three of them? It was an interesting thought, but it was soon replaced by looking at Spencer's arse as he walked slowly in front of him. He had an urge to just rip Spencer's cords off him the way he'd removed the shirt earlier and kiss that backside until his lips were blistered. A sound off to the right distracted those thoughts for a second. When he looked back Spencer was facing him. Floyd gave Spencer a bit of a smirk as his eyes drifted over the sweaty flesh.

'So,' Spencer said. 'was it just you? Have I had any choice in anything? Has anything I've done been my own path?'

Floyd lifted a finger and ran it over Spencer's chest. 'Most has been your own path, Spencer. I nudge in the right direction occasionally. Nothing major.'

'An example. Tell me one thing which was you rather than me.'

'Cant actually bring one to mind now. That's good! So few that I cant think of one. Now turn and walk.'

'I need to know, Floyd. I need to know that my life has been what it is because…'

'I sort of encouraged you to get your mum in Bennington, but that was a long time coming. I just sort of gave you the idea… time… you know? It was time and she was holding you back. I didn't want you hanging around nursing mummy. You needed to move on. She was leeching off you Spencer…' He could see the look of absolute horror on Spencer's face and so carried on in an attempt to smooth the edges again. 'I found Bennington. It's a great place. I even pay her bills. It wasn't spite or…'

'You…' Spencer talked in a low slightly wobbly voice. '…how could you do that?'

'I wanted you! I wanted to fuck you and not have to wait for mother's meds to kick in! That's not a life… a party… fun… that's a shit life. One you didn't deserve. She's happy now.'

'Something else… I don't believe that in all the time you've known me that was the only or even the first time.'

Floyd shrugged. 'Well there were a few little things, but… it's not really important.'

'Let me be the judge of that.'

'Really Spence. Top side it's real hard to do that anyway. I couldn't do that shit I did to Sam up there. It was just small bits… ideas I put to you… you never refused me. Not once did you. You let me. You liked it!'

'Are you telling me that you groomed me? That you preyed on me and…'

'Grooming is such an ugly word. Come on. We need to go.'

Spencer opened his mouth to say something, but the words he needed just didn't exist in a language he knew. The slap he gave Floyd around the face was going to have to do for now. Floyd accepted it… it stung both Floyd's face and Spencer's hand. 'I was a child!' Spencer suddenly screamed into Floyd's face.

'Yeah, yeah… whatever makes you happy…' He paused, looked beyond Spencer and frowned. 'Where the hell has Sam gone?'

Spencer spun back to look at where Sam had been a few minutes ago. Really there weren't many places Sam could have gone. A few outcroppings of rock around… and the shadows, deep dark stinking shadows. 'Sam!' Floyd called out. The cry echoed around but nothing came back in reply. 'Sam, stop fucking around! Where the hell are you?' Still nothing. 'Shit.' Floyd pulled the short sword and handed it to Spencer. 'You go right and I'll go left, circle that mound and come back to the centre. If you find nothing just sit, draw a protection of some type. Stay tight. Go…'

Spencer looked at the sword in his hand. He'd never used one and didn't think that he was going to find plunging a blade into someone very easy. 'Floyd…' But Floyd was already pulling a knife from his baldric, one in each hand and moving away.

'Sam!' The call echoed around again.

Sam could hear them calling him. He knew that he didn't have much time. His new mother enfolded him tightly. She'd grown something interesting and after tearing at Sam's jeans she soon found her way in… Sam wanted to scream… not with pain, but with unholy delight. He suckled at the Spider Bitch and rocked on her strange and special growth and rubbed at himself. 'I've got such a pain in my stomach.' He whispered over the livid hot flesh.

'Hush baby… hush. You just need to get used to it. Everything will be wonderful. We can be together… but later. Go now. They're looking for you.'

'I want to stay.'

Two of her hands held tight to the side of Sam's head. 'Just relax my love. Just relax.'

Sam felt her pull him away. He felt her many hands and her spiky hairs drift over him. The pain which had been in his stomach seemed to have transferred to his head. It then travelled down the back of his neck and into his spine, where finally it drifted off and gathered around his ribs. He could taste blood in his mouth, and feel it running out of his nose.

It was Spencer who found him. He saw the pale shape slumped in the dust and was running and calling out to Floyd at the same time. He crouched down next to him and placed the sword at his side and was about to reach out and touch him when something hard smacked him on the back of the head. That was why when Floyd came running he found both Sam and Spencer laid out in the dust. Spencer was out cold and on his back. The short sword was jutting up out of the rocky floor, Spencer's chest was caked in blood and Sam… Sam? Fuck Sam… Floyd ignored the whimpering sounds and rushed to Spencer's side.

'What the hell happened?' How could this mess have all happened so fast? He ran the fingers of one hand over Spencer's chest. Something had been carved into it… He looked at the sword sticking out of the rock… not possible… at least not possible for Spencer to have done that. 'Spencer, did you see what did this?' Floyd spoke as he shrugged off his pack and pulled out a bottle of water. 'This might sting… babes can you hear me? Did you see anything?'

Spencer just stared up at the cavern roof in silence. The blood washed off to show a circle with eight lines coming from it. The whole thing was about a foot across. Spencer moaned and tried to slap Floyd's hands out of the way. 'Get off.' He muttered.

'It's me, it's Floyd. It's not deep, but it might scar. Did you see who did this?'

'Hit me from behind.' Spencer groaned and felt for the lump on the back of his head.

'OK. Just stay still, I'm going to check on Sam.' He placed the bottle of water in Spencer's hand. 'Drink. You'll feel better.' He then quickly moved away to where Sam was laying. His jeans were around his ankles and the blood around his buttocks and down his legs was clear to see. 'What the hell?' Floyd whispered as he rolled Sam onto his back. 'Sam? What the fuck happened? What got you?' But he knew. He knew very well what had got him. He just wanted to hear Sam admit it.

'Nothing. I fell.'

'Well you would if you run around with your pants around your ankles. Sit, let me see you properly.'

'You'd never understand.' Sam whimpered as he pushed up to sit. It looked as though he'd had the nose bleed from hell, and that was probably exactly what it was. Floyd touched Sam's face gently and ran a finger across his nose.

'Explain. I'll not understand if you don't tell me what the hell is going on.'

'She loves me.' Sam sighed.

'Loves you?' Floyd's head was snapping around to look at Spencer who was on his knees now drinking rapidly from the bottle. 'Loves you? Please, Sam, tell me you're not talking about the Spider Bitch.'

'Don't call her that! She… she…' Sam winced and wrapped his arms around his chest.

'She sure as hell doesn't love you! What have you agreed to? What has she done to you? Where did… how… did she fuck you?' Floyd began to pull Sam up to his feet. 'Sam talk to me. I need to know what the hell is going on.'

Sam shook Floyd off and pulled his jeans back up again. 'Floyd? She said… she… she said… and I… I don't know what to do because now I cant stop it and she does love me. She lets me…' Sam closed his eyes for a minute and then wiped at his nose with the back of his hand. Floyd could see that Sam was looking over at Spencer who in turn was running a finger over the cuts on his chest. 'Did she cut Spence?'

'Yes Sam… she carved a pretty picture on his chest. You're just lucky she didn't do that to your face.'

Sam's hands flew to his face. 'Oh my god. She wouldn't. She loves me! She's chosen me.'

'Chosen you for what exactly? To tear apart and eat for lunch? She's not a benevolent creature Sam. She's a demon spider thing. Tell me what she's done to you. I can only help you if I know.'

Sam's arms wrapped around his chest again. The pain was unbelievable, but for now he wasn't going to let Floyd know. He could feel funny shaped lumps on his ribs and his stomach was churning and bubbling. 'I'm not sure.' Sam finally said. There was no point in saying she'd done nothing, because clearly she had certainly done something. 'Floyd? What happens when… what would happen if a thing like that laid eggs in you?'

Floyd's eyebrows did a little dance. He looked around at Spencer who was still inspecting the damage to his chest and then he looked at Sam again. 'If that thing laid eggs in you, Sam… you'll die. It will be slow and sort of painful. I saw, back in her lair, there was a girl all wrapped up like you were… but from what… well… if she wasn't dead before she would have been after the eggs hatched and the spiders ate their way out of her. Has she asked you? Has she asked you to do that?' But Floyd was already thinking of the blood on the back of Sam's legs. 'Did she pass eggs into you when she screwed you?'

Sam shook his head. 'No. That was just pure bliss, actually. She was pleasing me because she loves me and wants to protect me.'

'She's going to eat you alive Sam.'

'She lets me suckle.'

Again Floyd's eye brows leapt. 'What the fuck? You what? You dirty motherfucking stupid little… Why?'

A small pathetic voice from Sam now. 'Because she said she would love me.'

Whatever it was about this _love_ crap Sam and Spencer were on about was beyond Floyd. He didn't understand their need to have that said to them. The word was as meaningless as _sorry_. It meant nothing! 'You can love scrambled egg on toast, doesn't mean you have to stick it up your arse does it? What's wrong with everyone? We need to get the hell out of here and you boy… and Spencer are not going to be out of my sight for one fucking second! Fuck… this really is all I needed. Whatever she promises you, Sam… it's a lie. She's a demon. She doesn't love you. She's trying to manipulate you into accepting a deal from her. Don't accept it. Whatever the hell you do, don't let her lay her fucking eggs in you, or you're deader than fucking dead. You understand me?' Spencer now walked over with a pained expression on his face. Floyd glanced at him and then at Sam. 'I love you! There… I love you both. I couldn't live without you… here Sam suck on me and feel wanted and adored. You are beautiful. I love you!' Would that satisfy Sam? 'But please for fuck's sake tell me now if you've agreed to anything with her. Are you carrying her offspring?'

Sam shook his head slowly. 'No.'

'Good. Let it stay that way.' He wrapped his arms quickly around Sam, but Sam kept his own arms around his chest feeling those odd little lumps.

'What is this?' Spencer pointed to his chest. 'Some kind of hex? Have I been cursed?'

Floyd sighed and watched Sam slowly walk away. There was more to what Sam had admitted to. That was very clear. He'd get it out of him later… A cuddle and a bit of love and appreciation, even if it was false, got Sam talking quicker than thumping him in the ear. Now he wrapped an arm around Spencer. 'A calling card, Babes. Nothing to worry about.' And he really hoped that was true.


	33. Chapter 33

33

Once again it seemed like a good time to take a rest. Spencer mixed something up with a bit of water and a few pinches of herbs and gave his chest a proper cleaning. The very last thing he wanted now was for it become infected. He had also noted that when Sam walked away that blood was already seeping through the fabric of his jeans. After he'd washed his wound down, and double checked with Floyd that he wasn't now hexed with something which was going to come get him in the dark, he approached Sam, who was sitting with his arms wrapped around him, rocking slowly back and forth. Spencer could clearly see the pain on Sam's face… a pain which turned to one of undisguised loathing and he wasn't sure that Sam would want to take anything from him, but still he held out the small bottle of foggy water. 'It's a cleanser and has natural antibiotic properties.' Spencer told him. 'I just used some on this.' He tapped his own chest. 'Didn't sting, but it feels a lot better now.'

'I don't need your fucking charity. Leave me alone.' Sam replied.

'It's not charity, Sam. You're bleeding. It will stop infection.'

Sam let out a gust of a laugh which made Floyd look up from the collection of dried meats he had on his lap. 'You think that your magic water is going to help me?' Sam moved forward so he could talk directly into Spencer's ear. 'Nothing you can do can make me better now.' He then moved back to his previous position and began his rocking again.

'I'll leave it here. In case you change your mind.' Spencer got up again and walked over towards Floyd. The small bottle hit him on the back of the head, spilling slightly scented water down his neck. The little bottle didn't break, but Floyd was still on his feet and moving towards Sam in a flash. Maybe he would have torn Sam apart right there and then, but he never got as far as Sam as Spencer once again stood in Floyd's way.

'He's in pain. He's scared.' Spencer spoke quietly.

'You're going to be in pain and scared too if you don't get out of my way.' Floyd put a hand on Spencer's shoulder. 'Move.' Floyd hissed at him.

'And what? You go and tear Sam's arms and legs off? What will that resolve?'

'Resolve? Well I'll have fresh meat for dinner… good enough?' But already Floyd was backing off. 'He's infected. He might not want to admit it… if he even knows, but he sure as hell suspects.'

Spencer nodded. 'But killing Sam wont fix the problem.' He picked up the mostly empty little bottle and placed it in Floyd's hand. 'I might have an idea though.'

Sam was in a world of absolute misery. He could feel things moving around in his stomach. Soon they'd want to come out. The hatching process had started… at least he thought that was what was going on. He would be dead by the morning… or whatever classes as morning. They would have eaten their way out of him and his eyeballs would have exploded and he'd be a lump of raw meat laying on the floor and there was nothing he could do about it. Telling Floyd seemed pointless. Floyd would take that short sword which he'd pulled back out of the rocks like some fucking King Arthur and he'd take his head off with it. He knew that. Floyd would just kill him. He was going to die either way. He didn't want to cry, but did anyway. He didn't want to piss himself again with fear, but yeah… it seemed he had a bladder problem today. He could feel where he was rocking back and forth, that the blood was warm and wet on his behind. He was slowly bleeding out and washing it with Spencer's stuff wasn't going to help him one iota. He was ripped up inside. The Spider thing had torn him and now he was going to bleed out and then explode as spiders found their way out.

Oh misery! Such a dreadful way to go! He'd never make it into the long stories of heroes who had battled their way through hell to find their lost loves, not that he was searching for a lost love, but that could be changed to make the story better. Sam the Warrior of Hell… A young man fights alongside age old companions to regain the soul of his lost lover who has been consigned to hell for eternity. It sounded good to Sam. It would tell how one of the companions… the one called Spencer was lured away by dark stinking creatures and he had to kill him to save his soul from damnation… and how the other companion called Floyd went mad and threw himself into one of Hells lava pits… _his screams could be heard for ever…_ or maybe a day or two… because _forever_ might give the thought that he could be saved… Sam was about to decide on what fate he would have when Floyd landed on him.

'Quick. I've got him!' Floyd was shouting as he pulled Sam's arms down and knelt on his hands.

Sam struggled and wriggled and tried to bring up a knee to smack Floyd in the back, but he was quite well pinned down. It was Spencer who spoke to Sam. 'We think that you have a parasitic infection. It's not your fault, but you're acting weird and we cant think of another reason. You are going to drink this…'

'NO.' Said between clenched teeth. 'Don't you fucking dare.'

Spencer glanced at Floyd who gave a small nod and then looked back at Sam again. 'The Spider Demon has done something to you.'

'Fuck off.'

'And you need to drink this. It will clean out the infected…'

'Floyd? Don't do this… please. She will kill me. Please don't do this… you don't understand.'

Floyd spoke quietly to Sam… trying to reassure him. 'It's OK, Sam. I wont let her hurt you and I wont let her use you like this. You cant trust what she's said to you. You're bleeding… you're sick. Spencer made this brew up for you specially and it will clean out the infection. At least that's what we are hoping. Just open your mouth and drink up.'

'She said that…'

Floyd didn't let Sam finish. 'I'm not interested in what she said. It's moot. Open your mouth or I'll slash your lying throat and pour the stuff down you that way.' His reassurance wore off pretty quickly. 'Spence, just get on with it.'

Spencer used one hand to grasp hold of Sam's jaw. It was something which had been done to Spencer many times. He knew where to dig that thumb in and where to apply the pressure. He then forced the opening of the bottle into Sam's mouth and let the lot pour out. A lot was spat back out over Sam's lips but once Spencer's hand was over Sam's mouth and nose there was nowhere for the potion to go but into Sam's stomach. Once Sam had swallowed Spencer slowly took the pressure off and let Sam breathe through his nose again. He did however keep his hand over Sam's mouth for now. Spencer spoke to Sam who was making keening whining noises but staring at Spencer as though he was going to rip his throat out for him.

'Sam, I don't know how long this will take. It needs to work its way down and destroy the parasites.'

Sam mumbled something from behind Spencer's hand and so slowly Spencer removed his hand so that he and Floyd could hear Sam. 'You just killed me. I hope you're happy. I hope you are fucking happy! And I hope… what I hope… is that… I'm going to puke… please let me up, I'm going to barf…'

But Floyd didn't move. Not going to give the kid a chance to run away and hide in the shadows and die… if he was going to die, then Floyd wanted to watch it. Spencer smacked his hand back down over Sam's mouth. Puking out the mix wasn't on the agenda. But then again the screaming demon crashing into Floyd and ripping him off Sam wasn't on the agenda either. Sam slipped out from Spencer's grasp as the thing dragged a howling cursing Floyd away from her incubator. Floyd was strong, but he only had one pair of legs and one pair of arms… and no breast. The creature seemed to fly and as Floyd realised that he'd attacked Sam unarmed he was crushed between a lump of rock and a demon. He felt bones give way and he felt wetness flood over him as he fell… fell a long way, but not was far as when he'd jumped off the apartment roof. Spencer had taken a few moments to watch what was going on with Floyd, looked at Sam writhing and squirting liquids from every orifice and Spencer ran. He snatched up Floyd's sword and his baldric of knives and dropped it over his shoulder. Still looking at Sam, who was now on his front, still puking and pouring vile liquids, but crawling away… Spencer looked at the heap of Floyd, back to Sam, to Floyd and then at the creature… and Spencer muttered some words under his breath. He honestly felt foolish saying the strange words which made no sense to him. It was mostly but not all Latin… almost like some words had become corrupted. 'Subsiston bar tergul everto matris' Which maybe translated to something more or less asking it to stay back. Spencer walked quickly in Sam's direction. There was now an ear splitting screech coming from him… and something like a growl… the smell was enough to make Spencer retch… it was the smell of over heated sewers and that stuff was squirting out of Sam like he was a shit fountain. Spencer could see Sam's hands and knees slipping in the muck he had puked up. 'Adveho haud propinquus matris per nusquam.' The thing hissed back at Spencer now… Sam carried on squealing like a stuck pig but Spencer pointed at the creature. 'Vulnero quis est mei quod vos mos intereo _bitch_! Vado tergum ut vestri cubile. Vado tergum quo vos erant prognatus. Absum ex hic turpis Monasteriense. Ingredior haud propinquus.' The rest of Spencer's words were howled at the spider bitch who seemed to not be listening to him at all.

'You killed my children!' It bellowed at Spencer. He felt the heat of the words and the stink of the breath.

'You will stay away. Return to your home. You don't belong here. You cant have Sam for yours. He is part of me and part of Floyd and you cannot take him and not take us too. Retreat and forget this.'

She stepped closer. Almost close enough for the large hard breasts to touch Spencer's face. 'Your pathetic words don't work on me.'

'Stay back, or you will die. That is what will happen. Please don't mistake my words. I mean what I say.'

'Stop me, little boy. Stop me with your stupid words. Little boy who couldn't even stop me from drawing pictures on his skin. Silly little…' Spencer waited until she was almost too close. He then looked over his shoulder at Sam who was struggling to get to his feet again. The demon followed Spencer's gaze and laughed… The laugh turned into a scream and a gurgle as Spencer pushed the blade of the sword through her neck and forced it out through her spine. He twisted it… pulled it out and stuck it in again. 'You should have listened to me.' Spencer hissed at it.

It exploded. It exploded a thick black slime over Spencer and over anything and everything within a twenty foot radius… then it was just splattering lumps that fell down… hot steaming, on fire, blubbery lumps of demon spider flesh. For a moment Spencer thought that he'd been killed with it. He couldn't see, there was something like tar running down his face and neck, he could only hear a high pitched whine and all he could smell was shit, burning flesh and rubber. 'Dear god.' Spencer muttered. He dropped the short sword to the ground and wiped at his eyes, tying to clear his vision. 'I'm still alive? I'm here?' He didn't move his feet but he turned his head to look at Sam, who had stopped crawling and had his hands over his head protecting it from scalding hot falling lumps. It seemed to be from Sam that the sound was coming from. He then looked over at Floyd who was still an unmoving lump. Sam was alive and making a sound. Floyd maybe not, so it was to Floyd he squished to first.

Floyd was on his side with eyes closed and a lot of blood oozing out from somewhere under his head. His shirt had been pulled up out of the back of his jeans and Spencer could see the bruises already coming up on Floyd's side. That meant he was still alive didn't it? He placed a sticky finger on the side of Floyd's neck.

'Don't worry about me. Go help Sam.' Floyd spoke and spat out blood.

'No. You're hurt. I want to help you.'

Floyd's eyes opened. The whites of his eyes had turned blood red. Spencer let out a small yelp of surprise. 'Go to Sam.'

Spencer stood and stared at Floyd. 'I want to help you.'

'Go!' More blood spitting. 'Please.' Floyd added. 'I'll be OK… just need to pull myself back together.' Spencer just stood there though and looked at Floyd who had the look of someone who had just been run over by a bus. 'You did good Spencer. Don't fuck up now. Go to Sam.'

Spencer thought he was going to be as sick as Sam had been. The smell was really much worse than anything Spencer could imagine. The smell of the open sewer on a summer day, decomp, blood, tar, hot vomit… it was a mixture which Spencer hoped he'd never have to smell again. He didn't bother talking to Sam, but took him by his hands and pulled him away from most of the mess. Sam's leakage seemed to have stopped for now and so once Spencer had moved him away from the puddles of slime, he pulled off Sam's jeans which were soaked back and front with _stuff_. He talked to Sam all the time, trying to ignore the horrible noises Sam was making. 'Everything is going to be OK. It's sorted. You're going to get better now. I expect it hurts, but now that will fade and…'

'Hurts?' Sam asked.

'You're not in pain?' Spencer seemed surprised. He pulled out some cloth from his pack and started to try to wipe the crap off Sam.

'Absolute fucking agony. You killed her?'

'She's gone. She cant hurt you anymore.' Spencer handed Sam some of the root thing he'd been chewing on to dull his headache. 'Chew on this.' He didn't think that it would do all that much to help, but maybe take Sam's mind of things. 'I'm going to roll you over and wipe your front down.'

'You just want to play with my dick.' Sam moaned.

'Believe me, Sam… that really is the last thing on my mind right now.' Spencer looked over at Floyd who seemed to have moved slightly and Spencer wanted to go back there and see… check up on him… kiss him better… feel his blood pulsing under his skin and feel his heart thumping in his chest. He needed to check… but Floyd had told him to sort out Sam… Whether it was because Floyd had asked him to do this or if it was because he'd been _told_ to, Spencer didn't know, and right now it didn't really matter. He got a bottle of water out and realised that it was their last one. They were never going to make it out of this place. They would die of dehydration first. There was not enough water to let Sam wash in it. He passed the bottle to Sam anyway. 'Sip.' He told him.

'Yeah, first drown me, make me have diarrhoea from hell and then tell me to sip. You're a wanker sometimes.' But he took the bottle and _did_ only sip and then passed it back. 'So Floyd? Is he dead?'

Spencer looked at the shit smeared, naked Sam and then at Floyd then back to Sam. 'Are you still in pain?'

'Deep, dreadful, all consuming emotional pain.' Sam snarled. 'She offered me nice stuff. She let me suckle.'

'She was killing you.' Spencer pointed out. 'If there was nothing inside of you, that…' He gestured at the mess Sam had made. '…wouldn't have happened. You know that.'

'She stuffed something down my throat. I felt it squirt something into my stomach. Then she gagged me to stop me puking.' Sam spoke quietly. 'Floyd would have taken my head if he knew, but I never agreed to it!'

Spencer just nodded. 'Find something to wear. I'll go check on Floyd again. Try not to… erm… get… that stuff…'

'It's called shit… say it… shit shit shit shit… it's shit.'

'Faecal matter.'

'Excrement.'

'Waste.'

'SHIT! Say it!'

Spencer shook his head but smiled. 'Shit.' He said. 'Happy now?'

'No… I forgot to tell you about the swear jar… go to Floyd. I'll try to get some of this stuff off and Spencer?' Reid turned to look at Sam. 'She promised me stuff.' Sam muttered.

'Did you receive anything from her?' Spencer crouched down next to Sam again.

Sam shook his head. 'Nope. But she was going to. She promised.'

Spencer would have ruffled Sam's hair if it wasn't caked in something brown and slimy and if there weren't steaming bits of demon flesh stuck to it. He just nodded slowly and touched Sam over his heart. 'Not all promises are meant. Floyd's different. He means it. She was lying to you Sam. She was using you.'

Sam wrapped his arms tightly around his mucky chest and looked at his feet. He could still feel the lumps on his ribs. It was hard to tell if they'd got bigger or if they were still as they were, but they were enough for Sam to want to put a top on so that no one could see them.

Spencer then left Sam to do clean up on himself and went to where Floyd was laying silently. Again Spencer reached out to feel that pulse and then rested his palm on Floyd's chest. The heart was hammering, slowing… speeding up… stopping, starting, racing and jumping. It wasn't giving Spencer the comfort he'd hoped for when he'd thought of feeling Floyd's life pumping. 'Floyd… Sam's cleaning himself up. How can I help you?'

Those bloodshot eyes opened again and peered at Spencer. 'Is my nose broken?' He asked. Spencer gave Floyd's nose a quick look, it was cut over the bridge and Floyd had been bleeding from his nose, but it didn't look broken. He told Floyd what he could see and got a small bloody smile in reply. 'My neck? I'm not feeling much below my waist… back? Did the bitch snap my spine?'

This time Spencer said nothing. He didn't even look. He didn't want to look. He just licked his lips and looked at Floyd's odd bloodied eyes.

'Can you roll me onto my front and have a look at my back.'

'You… Floyd… you shouldn't be moved. If you have a suspected neck or spine injury, moving you can make it worse.'

'I see.' Floyd blinked and smirked again. 'Get me a spinal board then and call the medics. Go… quickly.'

'What?' Spencer stood and looked around the cavern. 'Where?'

'Now stop fucking about. Roll me onto my back and have a look will you? Now?'

'But Floyd, it's dangerous… I don't want to be responsible for injuring you further. Can you fix it?'

'No doubt. Roll me the fuck over and look will you? If there's nothing there then it's likely just bruised. Check it for me babes.'

The hissing pained noises Floyd made when Spencer carefully rolled him onto his stomach didn't ease Spencer's mind very much. The squishing sound Floyd made wasn't very comforting either. Blood was coming from somewhere other than Floyd's head, lower down and pooling out now around his stomach and as he lifted up Floyd's shirt he could see and feel where blood had begun to seep into the grubby white fabric. The bruises and scrapes on Floyd's back were nothing really. He ran a finger down Floyd's spine, not really knowing what he should be feeling or looking out for. 'Everything seems OK on your back, but…'

Floyd didn't like _buts_… at least not that kind… they were excuses, tags… things to make life either more comfortable or less scratchy and Floyd wasn't in the mood for excuses right now. He could feel his guts spilling. Not a nice sensation and not something he wanted Spencer to know about just yet. 'Well that's good. Very good. Can you get me a drink of water maybe?'

'The blood…'

'Yeah… a bit of blood, but nothing fatal so can you get that drink? I might even have some whiskey in my… in my… flask. Spencer… you got some of that root left?'

'That was something I needed to talk to you about. We're running out of water. There's half a bottle left.'

'Get me… get me that flask then if that's OK and then bring Sam over here. Drag him if he wont come himself. I want to check he's going to be… that the stuff…'

'I'll get him. Don't move.' Spencer stood and looked down at the mess Floyd was laying in. 'Why didn't she attack me? She could have had me. I was right there.' Spencer didn't wait for an answer though, he walked off wiping at his chest and wondering if the muck stuck to it was going to cause an infection and make his skin fall off… or just rot right away from his chest.

Sam was sitting with the mostly empty water bottle at his side. It looked to Spencer as though Sam had used some of it to wash his face clean. At least there was a cleaner smear across his mouth and chin. Why did Sam have to be so damned selfish all the time? They'd rescued him. Made him better! Why did he have to continue to dig and dig and just generally irritate the way he did? Spencer snatched up the water bottle and picked up the lid which was laying in the dust. He looked around for something to wipe it clean on, but couldn't see anything… nothing but Sam's chin. He screwed the lid back on anyway and took a deep breath. 'Floyd wants you.'

'And?'

'And so get over there and keep him company.' Spencer thought that Floyd was hurting a lot more than he was admitting to. Why no one could be honest was beyond him. Why did they both have to lie all the time? Why was deception easier? Did Floyd think Spencer couldn't handle what was going on? He was a Fed! He could deal with it! He'd been around Floyd long enough to be able to deal with anything… Spencer's mouth did a quick twitch which might have been a snarl… he could deal with anything apart from being left to rot. That was something Spencer was finding hard to cope with and the more he thought about it the more it seemed to gnaw at the back of his mind.

'I cant walk.' Sam's words broke into Spencer's thoughts.

'What?' Spencer looked puzzled for a second. 'Crawl then.' He snapped and started to walk away with the precious small amount of water they had left. Spencer was feeling angry. He was feeling angry enough to pack his bag and walk away. He was sticky with demon remains and his chest was sore, his feet ached, he was thirsty, he had a pounding in his head, he stood and pressed the heel of his hands against his eyes.

'I cant crawl.' Again Sam interrupted Spencer's self pity. 'Will you carry me?'

Spencer shook his head, bent down, grasped one of Sam's hands and started to drag him. He'd had it with him. He was spoiling everything… he was… he was getting in the way! Getting between him and Floyd… wanting to take over… but now look at the little thing, all shit smeared and crying and kicking and something grabbed Spencer's ankle. He dropped Sam's hand and went to kick out at what it was…

'Spencer! What the fuck's gotten into you?'

Reid looked down at Floyd. 'I've brought Sam. And now I'm going to leave you with the only water we have left, because Sam chose to attempt to wash the mess of his face with our precious resources. Take the water and remember that's all there is. I'm going to search for more. I don't know how long I'll be and I don't know if I'll be back and if I do return I don't know if you'll still be alive. I'm tired, Floyd. I'm tired and fed up with you and Sam and I need to just – walk… walk and find water.'

_The slut has finally snapped_ was what Floyd thought and he was about to tell Spencer as much, but just let out a long shuddering breath instead. 'If something comes when you're away…'

Spencer shrugged. 'What? You'll die? If something comes when I'm here you'll die too. What difference does it make now? We are all going to die, because Sam…'

'Hey!' Sam rolled his disgusting body onto his back as he rubbed at the shoulder which felt like Spencer had been trying to rip out of joint. 'This shit… this mess is _your_ fucking fault. Don't you _dare_ start to blame me! I'd been awake for months waiting for you… and I needed to sleep. All you had to do was stay awake for a couple of sodding hours, but I don't mean enough to you for that to make a difference to you, does it? So don't fucking blame me! I called for you to help! I screamed for you he help me and nothing… not a fucking whisper in return, so you best remember that before you blame me for what happened. I was _raped_! You know what that's like…'

'Enough, both of you. Spencer, if you feel that you can find water then go. Take the short sword, and take a pack with empty bottles. Be careful, but firstly you need to do some protection for us or we are going to be nothing but ripped up remains when you get back.'

Spencer's mouth hardened to not much more than a white scar under his nose. Anger wasn't even coming close to how he was feeling now. Hopelessness was maybe a better description. 'Why? They don't work. Nothing I can do with those ridiculous words can help. You want me to draw a circle around you and protect you then fine, I'll do it, but don't expect it to work.'

Floyd again grabbed Spencer by the ankle. He wanted to get up and shake him, but thought that his intestines slipping out of his stomach and wrapping themselves around his ankles might look like a pity play, so he stayed where he was on his front with his shirt pulled up to his shoulder blades. 'Did that thing attack you?' Floyd watched Spencer shake his head. 'Then the words worked. You protected yourself from her. Now do the same for the pair of us.'

'It's this… this which protected me.' Spencer ran a finger over the cuts on his chest.

'Fine, if that's what you want to believe, but it'd make me feel a lot happier if you'd just say some words of protection over us first. Maybe something…'

'I know.' Spencer snapped at Floyd. 'Let go of me and let me think…' He walked around in a small circle a few times and then came back to where Sam was now curled up next to Floyd. 'There's something which sort of disguises… makes you invisible as such… at least I think that's what it does. I don't know if it'll work.'

'Remember to believe in it babes. Hurry… time is slipping fast. Go find the water… We have three days then after that… then don't bother making your way back, so a day and half there at the most.'

'Well considering we've been walking for days and not come across another living thing apart from…' He thumbed a gesture at the remains, 'I don't hold up much of a chance.'

'Then fucking run you lazy cunt.' Sam sniped.

Spencer felt totally ridiculous standing there like a grime covered priest saying words which were making out that Floyd and Sam wouldn't be able to be sensed by other creatures all the time the lay within the circle and kept in physical contact with each other. Tempting though it was not to, Spencer suggested that they hugged. He drew the circle, said more words… passed the whiskey flask to Floyd and ignored Sam. Spencer had a very good feeling that he'd never see the pair of them again. He wanted to bend over and give Floyd a kiss goodbye, but Floyd's mouth was already sucking and licking at the back of Sam's neck. It might have been the only part of him which didn't get shit sprayed all over it. Spencer shrugged the bag over his shoulder and checked the sword at his side. 'Well I'm off then.' There was no reply. 'I'll go and find water.' Still nothing from either of them and by the way Sam was laying there naked on his side, Spencer could see how much Sam was enjoying what Floyd was doing. 'Floyd, try to stay alive.' Again nothing. 'I'll be back.'

'Fuck off Spencer…' Sam again. Sam. Sam. _Sam_.

And on that happy contented note, Spencer walked away. He waited until Floyd and Sam were about half hour behind him before he broke out into a jog. He didn't want Sam to think he'd taken his advice about trying to be back ASAP.

Spencer made note of rocks and stalagmites sticking out of the ground. He needed to be able to find a way back again. He had for a while doubted that he was going to find water, but as he took ten minutes to catch his breath and leaned forwards with his hands resting on his thighs he looked over at one of those Stalagmites which was sticking up out of ground which was no longer covered in bone dust… the floor here was shiny and glasslike, but that stalagmite had to have been formed by something. Spencer moved his hands down to his calves and rubbed at his aching muscles. He didn't want to be crippled with cramp; not so early on in his search. He licked at his dry cracked lips and pushed his dirty sticky hair off his face and walked slowly to the pillar made out of a life time of tiny deposits. He ran a finger over the smooth rock. It was dry… it was dry now, but once it had been different. Maybe there was hope that he'd find something which was still dripping… still damp? He could at least cool his skin off on it; get some moisture on his lips before carrying on. He looked back behind him. The place was deathly quiet. Where were all the monsters and demons hiding? Why was there nothing here? He pulled out the short sword and marked the stalagmite so that he'd have a way to trace his way back again. At first he thought that the messed up dust would be his trail back, but now that was gone. His steps left no sign at all that anyone had passed this way and that made Spencer think that if he was leaving no signs then maybe the things which could be watching him left none either. He traced the mark he'd left of the rock and carried on walking at first and then breaking out into a long loping run. He tried taking long deep breaths and he tried not to imagine his liver bouncing around inside of him. He really didn't want to get a stitch in his side to add to the obvious dehydration he was feeling.

Time had no meaning. There was no way to tell how long he'd been running. His skin had long ago stopped sweating. The delicate skin on his lips was split. His eyes felt like they were too heavy to keep open and that foggy grey feeling was creeping in around the edges of his vision. He stopped running again and bent forwards. He licked his lips and wiped at his eyes with his fingertips and then took two deep breaths and stood up straight again.

_There is no water_. He'd wanted to actually say those words, but his throat was closing up now and speaking wasn't possible. _That's why everything is dead. There is no water. _Slowly he turned and looked back the way he'd come. Floyd had said give it a day and half then return! How long had it been now? Spencer didn't know. It might have only been a few hours but it felt like days. He'd not slept, he'd not even dared to sit down in case he fell asleep like he had done when he was meant to be guarding Sam. He looked at his hands and saw that the skin on his knuckles and between his fingers was raw and split. _I'm dying. I'll never find my way back and if I do, they'll be dead._ Again he looked to the direction he'd been running. He wanted to cry but had no tears. He wanted to scream, but there was no sound in his throat… he wanted to lay down and just die, but couldn't. The bag on his shoulders was digging in. He had blisters on his heels. He could hear his heart pounding in his chest getting ready to give up and just stop. His blood must have turned as thick as syrup by now. Again he looked at the cracked hands… not bleeding, just raw. _I'm not going to die here feeling sorry for myself_ and he started to walk again.

Spencer didn't notice it at first. It sat back in the shadows and seemed to just be another part of the rock, but as he got closer he could see more clearly off to the right that there seemed to be a small building. _I'm imagining it. Hallucinating. I've been fooled once… cant fool me again._ But his feet still seemed to be moving in the direction of the odd building. It was about ten foot square. It had a doorway which was probably only five foot in height and there were no windows. At least not from where Spencer was standing. He moved closer, trying to work out what the smell was that was now creeping up his nose. A smell of minerals and iron. A strange out of place smell. The building maybe had once been made of wood, but it had been here for so long that now the wood had turned to flaky stone. The smell was coming from beyond the doorway. Something was scratched into the wood, or what had once been wood, but time had smoothed some of the writing out and flaked other bits off. All Spencer could see now was a few squiggles which meant absolutely nothing.

Calling out 'Hello' didn't even cross Spencer's mind. Likewise knocking didn't enter his thoughts either. He grasped a knobble of stone which was a door handle and pushed. The first surprise was the darkness inside, the next was the stink… years of something being closed up and now released. Spencer put a hand to his mouth and coughed. He sort of noticed the blood he'd just hawked out, but wiped it away on the side of his cords. The dark interior was mostly empty. Apart from the thing which couldn't possibly be real sitting in the middle. Spencer at first just ignored it, then he stood staring at it and dropped the bag off his shoulders. He reached out and touched the cold metal of a hand pump. _It wont work. It's just to torment me._ Yet he moved in closer and tested the pump handle. It was the sort of thing you would have found in an old kitchen, only now it had no sink to empty into, but there was a small hollow in the floor as though thousands of years of pumped water had ended up there. Slowly and expecting nothing to work, Spencer pumped just the once. Somewhere deep down inside the floor something gurgled and rattled. Again he pumped and that sound was louder… it sounded like something was in dreadful pain. The effort of using the pump was almost too much. There was no strength left in Spencer. He knelt on the floor and tired again and again and again and there was a putrid smell, a smell that something had died and he was just pumping up the rotting corpse and then that smell of minerals and iron… a huge waft of it so strong that Spencer had to close his eyes to keep it from crawling over his dry weakening eyes and blind him… if smell could blind… Spencer was taking no chances.

When water finally arrived, Spencer had just about decided that five more pumps and he'd stop. He would stop and curl up in the dip in the cool and he would let himself die. He'd never promised he'd go back to Floyd. Never… So…

He stuck his head under the ice cold water and let it run over the back of his head. He scooped up handfuls as it settled into the dip and wiped it over his face. He let the water run over his wrists and then and only then did he allow himself to drink – slowly.

It was disgusting. It tasted like stagnant pond water. The smell of minerals made Spencer's nose run, but that didn't matter. He had water. Now all he had to do was fill the bottles and return to Floyd… Floyd and Sam…

He sat back on his hunkers and stopped the pumping. 'How long has it been? How long have I been? Am I too late?'

Spencer didn't notice at first that the light coming through the doorway had been partially blocked. His full attention was on the lovely cold water pouring down around him. He pulled off his boots and let his sore blistered feet soak. He knew he'd get stomach cramps and he knew that he'd be violently sick, but that didn't matter right now. His shaking hands and the vile headache didn't bother him either. He had water. He wasn't going to die – yet – that was what was filling his mind. At least until he heard someone cough politely…

Reid spun and the small room carried on spinning around him for a while and then settled and allowed him to look at the person standing just inside the doorway.

'You were thirsty.' The voice was deep and sounded amused.

Spencer blinked and licked his lips and nodded slowly and carefully. 'Very.' Spencer's voice sounded dry and croaky. It felt as though he'd been swallowing razor blades.

'Well that's good. You found the water.' The man who was wearing black trousers with suspenders over the black shirt hunkered down to get a better look at Spencer in the dim light. 'I hope you have payment.' He smiled a big smile, which didn't look at all friendly… the smile belonged to a pale face with long fair hair.

'Payment?'

'For using my water. Sorry, let me introduce myself. I am Ambrose. Keeper of the well.'


	34. Chapter 34

34

Ambrose was about Spencer's height and he didn't look like he was going to take any excuses… Spencer tried, 'I didn't know.' But Ambrose shook his head and waggled a finger. He should have asked first, apparently and Spencer's claim that he was delirious and sick didn't seem to make much of a difference. 'I don't have money.' Spencer then told Ambrose who shrugged and smiled that smile again and informed Spencer that _money_ serves no purpose.

'What would I possibly purchase with money?' Ambrose asked. He hunkered down so that he was on eye level with Spencer. 'And I'm sure that you have something far more valuable you could offer me.'

To Spencer that sounded rather ominous. He didn't like the sound of that at all. He moved back away from Ambrose until his back was pressed against the cold, stony rear wall. 'Everything I own is in my bag.'

The head shake which Ambrose gave Spencer, sent shivers down his spine. 'You know I don't want what's in your bag.' But Ambrose reached out for it anyway and emptied the contents onto the floor. Empty water bottles rolled around and a few bits of cloth. Spencer didn't have his herbs with him… but he did have a sword. Maybe Ambrose would want that.

'I have nothing. Please I just need…'

'To fill your bottles and leave again? So soon? No entertainment first? You don't want to break your fast with me?'

Spencer's hand twitched to the hilt of the sword. 'I need to get back to my friends. They're injured. They need water.'

A soft look of concern crossed Ambrose's face. 'Your friends, yes – and that's interesting too… just give me what I want and I'll leave you alone. Forever! I'll never cross your path again. Just give – me – what – I – want!' The voice filled the room, causing tiny fragments of stone to fall and dust to unsettle.

'I have nothing you could possibly want.'

'Well for sure I don't want that sword you're going to start waggling under my nose in a minute. Don't… don't try. I don't want to have to break your arms.'

Spencer tried to get to his feet, but Ambrose hunkered down in front of him and snatched the sword from his belt, tossing it across the other side of the small stone hut. 'I don't have anything!' Spencer told Ambrose as the metal clattered to the floor.

'Tell me about your friends. Information is a good resource. I might take that as payment. Who are you here with? Why are you here? What is your purpose and why would you be out here all on your lonesome, away from your buddies. How many of you are there? They're not close, I can sense that much.'

'Absum , creatura ex abyssus. Vado tergum ut pits quibus vos venit ex.' Spencer mumbled the words, not believing that any sort of chant or words telling a creature to go back to hell were going to work. In this case Spencer was correct. Ambrose placed a finger over Spencer's parched lips.

'Wont work honey pie. You're in my home. I'm already where I belong. You though, sugar, you're not. Tell me about your friends before I rip the information right out of your brain. I can do it, but sometimes chit chat is better than just tearing at someone's mind. What do you think? Going to tell me who you're with and who sent you?'

Spencer pushed Ambrose's hand away from his face. 'I wasn't sent… I just came for water.' Reid pushed back harder away from Ambrose, wishing that the wall would just swallow him up.

'Don't you piss me around and act like an imbecile. I can smell your brain, boy. I can smmelll it… juicy, sweet… tasty smell… what would it be like to suck it out of your stupid ears? Now try again. Who sent you and who are you with?'

Spencer considered pushing Ambrose out of the way and just legging it, but what would be the point? The reason he was here was to get water and he couldn't leave without it. He was also aware that he was weak and still shaking and over powering Ambrose was in reality just a pipe dream. He let out a long shuddering breath. 'I don't know. I don't know who it was who sent me. I never saw him. I don't even know where I am. I just know that I'm here and I need water. I will give you whatever you ask for as long as it doesn't kill me or my companions.'

'Who are your companions?' One of Ambrose's long fingers rested in a bit of dirty skin between Spencer's eyes. 'Because I cant see them. Why cant I see who they are? I know that they're up here… somewhere, but you…' the finger moved along to above Spencer's right eye, '… you have them shielded with your dirty tongue. I should rip it right out of your head. I don't like secrets. Give me their names.'

Again Spencer swiped Ambrose's hand out of the way. 'Don't touch me.'

'Then you cant give me what I want can you? Information… you don't seem to have what I want in that respect, so I will just have to force it from you.' Ambrose stood. Spencer thought he was going to get a kicking and began to curl up forwards to protect his stomach from the onslaught, but all he could remember happening was Ambrose placing his hands on his head. He could feel the digging of fingernails on his scalp…

o-o-o

Floyd spent his time when Spencer was away laying on lush green grass with his boy sitting across his hips. The Old Lady who always wore the purple kaftan had wandered over at one point to have a quiet word with Floyd, but Floyd was not in the mood for talk. He was, as it happened, in pain and his Sam was massaging his dick with his arse and taking all the misery in life away. It wasn't going to last and maybe it wasn't even actually happening but whether it was or not didn't matter. Sam rocked and wriggled and slid and it was one of the few times that Floyd allowed someone else to take total control. It was glorious. It was his heaven. The only thing which would have made it better would have been is somehow Spencer was fucking him too… 'Ah, my sweet lover!' Words of endearment flowed from Floyd today. 'My darling whore… my beautiful cunt-boy.' A precious few delightful moments. You don't get many of those in hell. He was making the most of it. The smell of Sam's sex and sweat, the smell of the grass under his butt, the sound of water flowing over rocks… Damn… The feel of water pouring over his head. Floyd let out a gasp and reached out for Sam, but he seemed to just disappear… fuzzy… like a bad picture on a TV screen… It sent small electric shocks through Floyd's body and for a moment he wondered if he was drowning.

Sam had a different sort of experience. He was not sitting astride Floyd and he was not kneeling on green damp grass. Sam was suspended by his feet over a boiling hot pit of lava having red hot pokers rammed up his back side. He was wriggling and moaning and someone was calling him… 'Cunt-boy…' But that wasn't Floyd's voice. That was a voice of something which had pale hair and pale eyes, and a promise to bite Sam's tender parts off and fry them with garlic and rosemary… 'Yummy yummy…'

Sam too was suddenly pulled back from his dream by the feeling that someone had tipped an ocean over his head. Somehow even though he'd been hanging by his feet, he was still able to sit up and start screaming for help.

'I thought you were dead.' Spencer spoke, his voice shaking as much as his hands. 'I didn't know how long I'd been away.'

'You arsehole!' Sam wailed. 'You wasted all that water!' He then snatched the bottle from Spencer's hand and glugged back as fast as he could. Spencer knew it was going to send Sam into more wails of pain and vomiting, but he really didn't care any more.

Floyd was looking at Spencer closely. He was on his back, the blood was a dried scab and his shirt was glued to his stomach, but he didn't seem to be otherwise in great pain. He took a water bottle from Spencer and gave him a smile. 'How long have you been?'

Spencer had no idea. He didn't have a clue. 'Two days.' It was more than that, he was sure, but Floyd didn't correct him or give him a funny look. 'I thought you were both dead when I got back. I thought I was too late.'

'How so? We were just laying here dreaming… and such, and we had a bit of water, whereas you were running? Running and had no water. I'd say I'm surprised you made it back.' A sip of water from the bottle and a dribble down Floyd's chin. 'You did good.'

'You know how things play with your mind…'

'Oh yes. I know how things play with my mind.' Floyd ran a finger down Spencer's face. 'So you were gone two days, and thought I was probably dead, so took your time to have a bath, wash your hair and scrub your clothes clean? I must say that I have underestimated you again. Had it been Sam, it wouldn't have shocked me… Had it been Sam he'd never have returned though…' Floyd shrugged. 'Tell me…Wait… SAM! Stop that revolting noise and go puke some place else.'

'Mother fuck….errrrrmmm… gross.'

Floyd turned his attention back to Spencer again. 'So what did you find out there? Tell me all about your adventures. You smell lovely. A bit sweaty, but you smell all… ah… of apples. Delightful!'

Spencer sat down in the dust. He'd not actually taken much notice of the clothes he was wearing, but Floyd was right. His cords were clean, his skin was clean and now he was running his finger through his hair that felt like it'd been washed and conditioned not too long ago. He started off by telling Floyd that he'd run for most of the way. He explained about how ill he had been feeling and how he didn't think that he was going to make it back again. He told him about the strange little room and the water pump. 'I stayed there for a short while just sitting in the water, cooling down, washing the dirt off…'

'Shampooing your hair and laundering your clothes…' Floyd added.

'Just listen! I think I passed out – the shock of the water…'

'… soap can do that to a person. Sure puts _me_ into shock for a while.'

'Floyd, either you want to know what happened or you don't. Stop interrupting.'

'Well, Babes, my apologies. Go right ahead… don't miss out a thing.'

'When I woke up I decided that as there was a lot of water and as the atmosphere outside the room was hot they'd soon dry, so I scrubbed them clean…'

'Where did the soap and washing powder come from Babes? Just curious… don't skip that part. I'm _dead_ interested.'

'As far as I remember there wasn't any. It must just be the smell of the minerals in the water.'

'Same water I'm drinking?' Floyd lifted the bottle to his nose and then wafted it under Spencer's. 'I can smell… let me think… copper manganese, iron, calcium – but just a wild guess on that one… sodium… possibly sulphur too considering where it's from… what else? I dunno, but sure as hell I cant smell any fucking apples. Apples? I mean Spencer for fuck's sake, down here? Fruit? You're the only fruit in hell my darling. So can we start over again? You find the strange building with a hand pump… start again from that point.'

Spencer didn't actually know! He had no idea why he smelt of apples or why his cords still that that fresh out of the laundry smell to them. He gave a small shrug. 'There was nothing.'

'No one spoke to you? No one attacked you or smacked you on the head… or maybe just touched you between the eyes?'

Spencer's hand went to the place Ambrose had touched him, though for now all memory of Ambrose had gone. 'No.'

Floyd raised an eyebrow and nodded slowly. 'And you weren't at all curious as to why you look like you've had a sauna?'

'I was just worried I'd be too late for you.'

Now Floyd stood. He pulled the stiff cotton of his shirt away from his stomach and pulled a face at it. 'Want to know what I was doing whilst you were away?' Now Floyd was looking at Sam. 'You see I had to go get my belly fixed up by The Old Woman. I slipped away for a while. A short while and in here,' Floyd tapped his forehead, '…I took Sam and I fucked that pretty little arse of his. So really I don't care who you fucked to get nice and clean, but I do know that you like to shower in apple gel to get rid of the smell of sex off yourself. I _know_ you do that. You _think_ I'm stupid, but I do actually know. So you go away for a few days and come back stinking of lies. What am I meant to think Spencer?' Floyd didn't wait for an answer, but walked over to Sam who was bent over puking in the dust and kicked him up the arse, sending him sprawling. 'Pack your shit together, idiot. We're leaving.'

Spencer didn't think that Sam was going to be capable of walking very far and he himself had spent the last goodness only knew how long running back to save the man he thought maybe he loved. Spencer wasn't ready to just march to Floyd's orders – not yet anyway. 'I'm not going yet. Nor is Sam. We need to rest.'

Floyd turned on Spencer so fast that he felt the displaced air. He felt more displaced air as Floyd uppercut Spencer under the chin and sent him flailing back, tripping over his bag and the bottles and onto the ground in a puff of dust.

'Don't you fuck with me!' Floyd bellowed at him. 'You've been fucking something! You and Sam… both of you! Twice! I've let you out of my sight two fucking times and both you had your dick stuffed up something. Was it cunt again? NO! Fucking don't tell me. I don't want to know and I'm not fucking interested in your sodding stories.'

Sam was struggling to get to his feet. He was smeared in crap and puke and blobs of dust and he was looking at Spencer and then down at himself and then at Spencer again. He wanted to say something. He wanted to run to Spencer and get him all mucky again and beg him to tell him where the hell he found a power shower and body shop apple gel in hell, but he didn't. He didn't want it to look as though he took enough notice of Spencer to have noted his new clean sparkly self. Damn him! Bastard. Sam walked back to the water bottles, snatched one up and emptied it over his head.

'You…' Spencer waved his hand in Floyd's direction. '…you just finished telling me of your fantasy of… of… of screwing… of having… Sam and then you accuse me?'

'Do I smell of anti-slut soap? No! No I fucking well don't, cos I was actually laying here drifting in and out of consciousness with my guts bleeding into the bone dust just trying to stay alive, because I know that you'd not live a damned day here alone. So… yes… I put myself somewhere nice… with Sam… it was easier… Why the fuck am I explaining myself to you! What the hell? No! Would you accuse me of cheating on you if I watched porn?'

'Don't be silly.'

'Would you accuse me of cheating if I disappeared for a few days and returned smelling all clean?'

'I – I… Now look that's hardly fair.'

Sam tossed a partially drunk bottle of water at Spencer. The contents began to pour out. Spencer picked it up and gave Sam _The Look_. 'Did you piss in that?' Sam asked Spencer. 'It tastes funny.'

It was more than Spencer wanted to deal with. Really far more. 'No… Sam it was pumped up from somewhere in hell. Of course it's going to taste funny. It's not mineral spring water… it's not treated with chlorine. I'm sorry!'

'It'll rot my teeth.'

'Probably.' Spencer found no reason to argue. 'And I don't really care.' He stayed on the ground where he'd fallen after Floyd punched him and rubbed at his arm. It ached. It felt bruised, but he couldn't see anything there. It actually hurt more than where Floyd had hit him. Spencer ground his teeth and called Floyd an ungrateful pig. He wanted to just let rip and use every abusive word and name Floyd had ever called him. He wanted to fire those words at Floyd and watch him hurt, but they'd not hurt Floyd, because the only words in Spencer's head… _Bastard, Motherfucker, Son of a Bitch, Asshole, Twat, Cunt, Shit, Whore, Slut, Bitch…_ they were all of them perfectly good descriptions of him. They'd not hurt Floyd any more than telling him that he needed a hair cut; he would likely agree. Spencer pushed his fingers through his hair and felt a few little sore places on his scalp. He wondered if it was from all the hair pulling which had gone on… or from…? He didn't know. Now his finger drifted to that place between his eyes.

There was for a short while a blessed silence. Sam was picking bits out of his hair and eating them making Spencer think of a monkey. Sam was still naked. Floyd was gathering things up and packing the bags, but his rush to leave seemed to have dissipated slightly. Floyd, though he was the most chaotic person Spencer knew, liked order. He needed to know everything was in its place. The only time he liked things messed up and chaotic were if it had been caused by him. So the wrapping of things in cloth squares, the sorting out of herbs in little bags he could smoke and placing them where he could reach them easily in the side pouch of his pack… the checking that his lighter was in place, all of that was just a routine which Floyd went through time after time. Spencer thought it was a bit like the scrubbing of bathrooms and floors… it was Floydian Therapy and if that helped calm his mood, Spencer wasn't going to interrupt.

Spencer drank some water, watched Sam finally put some shorts on over his filthy body and then he saw Floyd frowning down at him.

'Where is it?' Floyd didn't seem to need to explain what he was talking about. Spencer was after all, a mind reader.

'Where is what? That little building? The pump? We have water…'

'No… the sword… _My_ sword. The one you told me that you took for protection and actually smacked against rocks to mark your way… remember? About so long… sharp… silvery coloured… fancy grip and beautiful carvings along the blade. I carried it at my side. You _must_ remember it.'

Spencer said nothing but looked around at the packed up things.

'You lost it?' Floyd hunkered down in front of Spencer. 'You took my weapon which I had to fucking beg to have, and you took it and you fucking well _lost_ it?'

A head shake from Spencer. 'Floyd, no… no I've not lost it.' But he didn't remember having it when he got back. He didn't remember having it when he left the building smelling so sweetly of soap.

'Then you've hidden it from me? A game?'

'I don't… I don't… Floyd I don't know.'

'Which my darling idiot, means you've lost it. You put it down somewhere out there and didn't pick it up again.'

'No!' Spencer stood now. He stood too quickly and sat back down again with his head in his hands. 'Floyd…'

'You swapped it for a shower, a soak in the tub? What? What happened out there?' Floyd turned to look at Sam. 'Get over here cunt.' The words were said in a friendly manner which were, to Spencer vile. This was Floyd in a _I am going to kill you once I've explained why_ mood. He'd seen it many times. He'd been on the receiving end of it enough to know the signs. 'Sam…' Floyd hissed once Sam had sat down next to him. '… you're good with time… how long was Spencer away for?'

Sam looked at the ceiling and then at his fingers and closely at his fingernails and then he looked at Floyd and to Spencer and then back to his hands again. He held up five digits on his right hand and three on the other. 'Just over a week. Rough guess. Less than two… little bit more than one. I'd need more time to actually feel it exactly. Time twists as you know, but I can get a good feel for it when I think about it. Plus I can see how long my nails have grown. Very good indicator.'

Floyd now looked at Spencer who was sitting with his mouth slightly open. 'No… it wasn't that long.' Spencer said.

'Let us assume just for the moment that Sam has absolutely no reason to lie. Him lying right now could get you killed and that's not going to be good. So again, let us assume that you were away for eight days. You seemed to think it was only two. What happened to the other six days? Lost along with my pretty shit hot demon weapon? Any ideas?' Spencer was shaking his head. He had every reason to believe that Sam was stirring the shit he smelt of. 'OK… So you saw the small building, did you knock on the door?'

'I told you that already. No. I just… I put my hand on the door knob and pushed it open. The room stank. Stale air. I pumped the water… I washed in it and filled the bottles and took time to cool down and relax.'

'Fall asleep?'

Spencer frowned. 'Even if I had, that doesn't explain six days away.'

Now Floyd was nodding. 'You're right there. So something else happened. And I started with that.' He poked Spencer hard between the eyes. 'What happened next? What did you hit your head on? The pump? At what point did you remove the sword? And why?'

Spencer had no idea why or when and the bruise he seemed to have… or at least felt like he had between his eyes was not something he remembered doing either. 'I didn't remove the sword. I pumped the water, I made my hair wet, my hands… took my boots off I think… my feet were so sore… and there was a shadow.'

'You said the room was dark. No lights. Nothing. Shadow from where?' Now Floyd just sounded interested.

'Behind me.' Spencer turned his head as though to see if someone was there again.

'Someone snuck up on you. Hit you over the head?'

Spencer shook his head. 'No… we… we spoke. I remember I spoke to someone… It's so foggy.'

'He tried to wipe your memories babes. Guess he did a pretty good job of it. I need to know what you told him about me.'

'I don't remember!'

'Who was it?' Sam asked this time. 'The spider bitch again? That rat thing?'

'Ambrose.' Spencer muttered. 'He said he was called Ambrose.'

'Ambrose. Fucking Ambrose? You stayed a week in a hut in hell with Ambrose and you don't remember it?'

'No!... I don't remember!'

Floyd laughed.

Spencer thought he was going to die. Sam had been waiting for fresh meat to nibble on, but Floyd was just laughing.

'You know who that is?' Spencer asked nervously.

'No.' Floyd said with a grin. 'But I'm sure going to find out… and introduce myself.'


	35. Chapter 35

35

Floyd loved a little mystery. But he only loved it when he thought he could solve it and not get too hurt. He questioned Spencer over and over again about what happened after he initially spoke to this Ambrose person, but Spencer had no idea. Sam offered to hypnotise Spencer and got a thump in his ear from Floyd who explained… 'This is serious shit. The fucker got my sword… and my boy… it's not time to play your idiot games.' Sam wiped the blood from is ear and made no more suggestions, though he still thought that hypnotism would be a grand idea. Sam had a very strong feeling that Spencer had been cock riding for a week… he wanted Floyd to inspect Spencer's arse to look for friction burns, but maybe if evidence _was_ found Floyd would go off on one of his jealous rages and they'd all be dead. Sam decided that checking Spencer's arse was not the best idea. He did watch how Spencer was sitting though, and was mildly disappointed to see that Spencer wasn't favouring one buttock over the other. Floyd kept asking and kept asking Spencer if there was anything else… anything at all… any more unexplained bruises?

'Nothing.' And as Spencer said that, the little sore places on his scalp began to itch and the place on his forearm just below his inner elbow began to ache. He ignored it. It had nothing to do with what had happened at the water pump. Spencer still thought that nothing had actually happened. 'Sam…' Spencer turned to look at him. 'Are you completely sure it was that long?'

'The time? Well no… it could have been longer. I've not had time to do calculate it with any great accuracy, but it's somewhere between one and two weeks. Probably closer to one. You think I'm a liar? You think that I'd have a reason to say that?'

Spencer sniffed and sucked in on his bottom lip. 'You two, you didn't have enough water left. There was a couple of mouthfuls at the most in that bottle. You couldn't have survived over a week. This place sweats all the moisture out of your body even if you sit and do nothing.'

'That is a good point, Spencer.' Floyd stated. 'However I didn't stay here as such. As I told you, I went somewhere to heal and took Sammy-boy with me.'

'Nu hu. I didn't go to some nice place to heal at all. I was hanging by my feet over a pit of lava. But… I don't remember it all so maybe they gave me water?'

Spencer stood up and paced around for a while. They were insane. They were talking as though their dreams and nightmares were real. They were both delusional and totally bonkers. Then Spencer spun and looked at Floyd. 'Did you actually leave? I mean physically leave? Or was this just some form of out of body healing?' Spencer had a sudden memory of Ambrose asking who he was with and saying that he couldn't sense the companions… 'That… those words I said for protection… they shielded you, right?' Both Sam and Floyd nodded. 'So someone trying to scry wouldn't be able to see you?'

Floyd stood up now and nodded quickly. 'Ambrose?'

'I don't know! Just flashes of memory, but it might not be real. It doesn't _feel_ real, but…' Spencer shrugged. 'I just don't know. A feeling… like Ambrose asked who I was with… he tried…' Spencer put his finger on that place between his eyes. 'Were you invisible because of the protections or because you weren't actually here anyway? You were out of… out of scrying range.'

'Maybe, perhaps a mixture of both. I don't know. Wont know until I meet the bastard, but I will do.' Floyd smiled. 'We will spend one more sleep period here and then we will go. You said you'd marked the way.' Spencer nodded. 'So it should be easy enough to find again?' Again Spencer nodded. 'Good. Tomorrow then.' Floyd turned to Sam. 'Come here and have a hug bubbsie.'

'Bubbsie? What the hell was in that water?' Sam walked slowly over. His bags were packed and he was ready to go… ready to go and have a bath with Ambrose and get his hair washed and make himself look beautiful again. He knew that he was going to have to fight his way through hell and he knew that at times things were going to get messy and he could deal with it happening occasionally, but right now he thought he'd never wash the smell off again. He'd puked so much that he was, as Floyd had been, coughing up blood and his throat was tight and uncomfortable. The three of them lay together. Floyd had his arms tightly around his delicately perfumed Spencer and Sam lay with his back to Floyd – and with a plan spinning through his head so fast that for a while he didn't even realise that Floyd was screwing Spencer. Sam got onto his knees and just watched for a while. He could have joined in, but Floyd obviously preferred Spencer's apples to Sam's shit and vomit scent… and as far as Sam could see there was only one solution to that problem. For now he lay back down again; with his back to Floyd once more and he waited. He heard all the familiar yelps and small cries… and he felt the way Floyd was moving and then he could smell cheroot smoke. Sam pretended to be sleeping with his hands stuffed down the front of his shorts and a great need for deep divine satisfaction. And he had a good idea where he was going to get that from.

o-o-o

Floyd awoke with Spencer still in his arms. Though it wasn't really sleep he was doing, but more of a deep meditation which looked and acted much like sleep. Don't argue with Floyd… if he says he doesn't need to sleep then he doesn't. He gave Spencer a lick on the back of his neck and rolled onto his back, reaching out for Sam.

Sam wasn't there. Sam wasn't anywhere it seemed and after giving Spencer a shake and then checking out their goods, it seemed that Sam's bow and other equipment was missing along with Sam. Spencer searched for the things too, not believing that Sam could have gone off alone. He'd not be that stupid and incautious. He'd not leave and not tell them where he was going.

'Well this is about as fucked as it's going to get.' Floyd kicked out at Spencer's bag. 'You know what he's done don't you? You know he's gone off to get a fucking bath somewhere. That stupid sodding…' Floyd put his hands up as though in defeat. '… find me a word Spencer, cos I don't have one to describe him.'

'Child.' Spencer muttered. 'Spoilt, insufferable, selfish, thoughtless, child.' Spencer then added.

'Can you find your way back to the pump? Would he be able to follow the trail you left?' Floyd was picking things up and slinging his bag over his shoulders. 'Get your stuff ready.'

'You know he's gone there?' Spencer was also picking his things up and shaking off the dust.

'A better idea! Praise be and hallelujah Spencer has a better idea! What is it?'

Spencer ignored Floyd and started to run his fingers over the scab on his chest… it was healing well. Much too well for him to have been gone only a few days. 'He wanted payment.' Spencer suddenly said. 'He asked me for payment.'

Floyd said nothing. There was nothing much to say really. Spencer sold his arse for a bottle of water and Sam was likely to do the same. He wanted to rage and complain and tell Spencer what a dirty whore he was, but he'd made his boys that way. It's what he wanted!

'You're a dirty slut.' Floyd told him anyway.

'What? What have I done wrong now?' Spencer walked around double checking that there were no signs that Sam had gone in a different direction, but Floyd was a tracker. It's what Floyd did. If he thought Sam had gone the same way Spencer had, then he was going to have to trust him on that.

'You… both of you. You just have no damned shame do you? Selling yourself like some cheap backstreet trollop. Acting like… well like Sam I guess.'

Spencer started walking. He had no desire to start arguing with Floyd over something he had no memory of and Floyd had no proof of. He resented the fact that Floyd said he was a trollop… no… moreover he resented Floyd saying that he was acting like Sam. The fact that Spencer had come back smelling like soap and shampoo was irrelevant. That could have been for any reason…

During the next hour or so Floyd had called Spencer a 'Fucking doxy bitch.' Along with a list of other disparaging names like, hooker, bawd, floozy… when Floyd called him a _stinking unfaithful shit_. Spencer finally stopped and turned to Floyd.

'You can call me what you want.'

'And I will.'

'Good. Please get it out of your system. Then shut up. I don't remember what happened. Whatever it was, if it was sexual, it wasn't something I agreed to.'

'You've got bite marks on your arse.' Floyd informed him.

Spencer slowly shook his head. 'No… Only if you put them there last night.'

'They were already fading last night… long before I gave you a few friendly pinches, but that's not the point Spencer. You sold yourself for water. That's low… fucking low thing to do. I was lying dying in the dust for over a week and you had your fun… Wanted to come home and be treated like the great hero? Well… no. You went off and you let someone fuck you. In my books that cheating.'

Spencer pulled the bag off his shoulder and threw it to the ground. 'I did nothing of the sort! What is _wrong_ with you? Why are you acting like a kid? I don't remember what happened. Maybe he used a date rape drug on me! I have no idea! Do they have Rohypnol in hell?'

'Roofies don't make you smell of apples. They just put you out of it…'

'And you really would know wouldn't you?'

'I really would.' Floyd confirmed. 'So he raped you?'

Now Spencer's bag received a kick. 'I don't know!' He screamed at Floyd. Big anger… very big anger was exploding out of Spencer now. 'I don't remember! I keep telling you that!'

'OK.' Floyd walked over to Spencer's bag and picked it up. He held it out for him, but carried on talking. 'Spencer sweety, you have bite marks on your arse and on your back. Something fucked you. I'm slightly aggrieved that you were abused by someone. Now what I don't know you see… and this is that part which is bothering me the most, I don't know if your memory was altered before, so as you pointed out it was rape, and I cannot point a finger of blame at you if it was, or if you offered yourself to Ambrose willingly and then had your memory altered. It makes a difference you see? A big difference if you're wearing my boots. One way you're the lowest son of a bitch floozy in hell and the other you're a victim.'

Spencer snatched the bag. 'I wouldn't have agreed to something like that.'

'Well you wouldn't know that if your memories are screwed. And again a problem. Either I'm going to kill Ambrose and ask, nay, beg your forgiveness for ever doubting your undying loyalty to me, or I am going to kill you and recruit Ambrose. Think on that. Decide what happened based on those facts. You might start remembering.'

Floyd walked off again, taking long purposeful strides.

The odd thing was that Spencer didn't feel that Floyd was actually angry with him. He felt more that he was angry with the situation and not knowing what was going on. He was angry that Sam had snuck off for a bath. Spencer was just there, and someone to throw insults at.

'Floyd… really, please listen to me. Hear me out before you go wading in doing something you might feel different about later.'

Again Floyd stopped and turned around. 'Memory suddenly came back did it?'

Spencer shook his head, walked towards Floyd and took his hands. 'I would never, do something like that to you. You know I wouldn't. I couldn't.'

'Taki, Joel, Benny Fowler, Simon Jessico, Kevin Apps… you want more names?'

Spencer shook his head. 'No… But I didn't go behind your back with those people. You were… gone – you had left.'

'Fine… so he raped you? This Ambrose guy… you know that for sure? You know you didn't offer it?'

'Maybe, just maybe I did offer the sword. I don't know. I just don't know what happened to it. I do know that I would never do what you say I did.'

'So the apples are a coincidence? You didn't ask for an apple shower? Golden shower? Any kind of shower?'

Spencer shook his head. 'No… no I didn't.'

'Then he must me a hell of a mind reader…' Floyd patted Spencer on the side of the face. 'We need to run. You know the way? You can find the markers you left? Cos Sam will be considerably slower… we might catch him, but I don't think so, but we could get there before too much damage is done.'

'I'll take the lead then.' Spencer gave Floyd a quick kiss on the mouth and started to jog onwards.

o-o-o

Sam had run. He'd picked up on Spencer's stupid marks in the rocks and laughed, knowing that smacking the rocks like that would damage Floyd's precious sword and then he'd carried on running. The thought of a bath or shower was making his mouth water and his balls tingle with delight. He was more than happy to whore himself out for that. He would do any sexual act that didn't kill him to get clean and beautiful again. Floyd would have stopped him. Floyd would have messed everything up. Sam attempted to judge the distance Spencer would have gone, he tried to keep going in a straight line as Spencer would have and though he missed one marker and ended up having to double back once, he thought he was making good time. If he was lucky he would get there even before Floyd had missed him. Sam didn't have to stop to rub aching muscles because Sam could run like a cat and when he saw that slightly darker smudge off to the right he had to stop himself from jumping up and down and whooping with joy. He didn't knock an arrow. He didn't even think of arming himself; he just pelted in the direction of his personal salvation.

The place was how it was when Spencer had seen it. Ancient wood now turned to stone. He slowed down as he reached the door and without another thought pushed the door open. The smell which had assailed Spencer's nose was a lot fainter now, but it was still there. The smell and the damned pump sitting there doing nothing. He slung his bags and equipment off his back and walked in. He knelt at the pump and did almost exactly what Spencer had done.

It took a while, but he knew it would. Spencer had said that it took a long time to get the water to come out and like Spencer he felt the vibrations under his knees and then…

'Who the fuck are you?' A voice asked.

Sam spun. He was grinning like a mad man. 'I'm Sam!' He cried out. 'I need…'

'You want my water?'

'Yes!'

'You can pay?'

'Yes!' Sam turned back and began pumping again. Still nothing was coming out of the spout. 'Just take what you want! I'll pay anything to be clean again.'

Sam felt the hands on his head, and was about to turn around to give Ambrose a blow job he'd never forget, but he couldn't move. The room started to turn and spin. He took his hands off the pump and placed them over Ambrose's hands. 'What are you doing?' He muttered.

'Taking payment.'


	36. Chapter 36

36

They heard the sound echoing through the cavern they were walking through. The ceiling was lower here, probably not much more than a hundred foot high. Both of them stopped and listened. Floyd with his head cocked to one side and his hands in fists and Spencer looking around trying to find where the sound was coming from.

'Christ.' Spencer muttered.

Floyd shook his head. 'Flattered, honestly, but…' Floyd who was slightly behind Spencer moved forwards and took Spencer by the hand. 'I think it's time to break some real bad news to you. Don't hate me for this, however sometimes the truth will cause pain.' Floyd felt Spencer squeeze his hand, sure that Floyd was going to tell him that the sound was Sam's death cries… that they were too late. 'Christ was nothing special. He wasn't who he made himself out to be. A trickster was all. A very naughty little boy who grew up to have some weird cult following. He had fantastic sleight of hand and a good crew of blokes who were willing to overlook his mistakes.'

'What?' Spencer's hand stopped squeezing Floyd's.

'Just things got very out of control in that place. Lots of political crap going on.'

'What's that got to do with those screams?'

Floyd smiled and shook his head. 'Nothing Babes, but if you're going to curse a word, use one which actually has meaning, not some upstart who has been the cause of war after war and will still be the cause long after you're dead.'

'I _am_ dead.' Spencer reminded Floyd.

'And there's still wars… my point made exactly. Cant argue your way out of that one.'

Spencer now ripped his hand from Floyd's grip. 'What has that to do with Sam? That _was_ Sam… I'd know his screams anywhere.'

'He's still a long way off, Spencer. Too far. However we now know where he is. That's good. We can just scoot on over there and rescue his little tight butt and carry on, because this journey is taking a fuck lot longer than I thought it would and I'd like to get down to business and stop this dilly dally fucking around we've been doing. Don't for even one second be out of my sight.' Floyd gave Spencer a quick slap on the backside. 'Now we run. We run like the hounds of hell are on our heels, cos that's gonna actually be good practice for when they are.'

Floyd didn't give Spencer time to say more. He pointed in the direction they needed to go and he ran.

Spencer thought that when he'd been running to try to find water that he'd been moving pretty fast, but Floyd was making a mockery of that. The man moved at lightening speed and was leaving Spencer behind pretty quickly. Spencer wanted to shout out to Floyd and tell him to slow down, but what would that do? It would give Floyd reason to start bitching that Spencer didn't want to get there quicker and get Sam out of the trouble he'd dug himself into. Again Spencer took deep breaths, imagined something vile and deadly breathing down his neck and upped his pace to try to at least keep Floyd in sight.

Floyd was running, but not at the speed he wanted to. He was giving Spencer a chance to keep up with him. He could hear Spencer's heavy breaths behind him… falling back… further back… Stop and wait? Well he should. He knew he should, but Floyd wasn't the one whose legs were about to seize up and go into an hour long cramp session. Floyd could keep going at this pace for days and not have to stop. He'd even thought about trying out for the Olympics… he'd run a marathon like no one had ever run one before. It was the drugs tests which would fail him. Floyd stopped and hunkered down and placed his fingers on the ground, not because he needed to sense where Sam was… he knew where he was, but because Spencer was doing a fine job of not complaining and needed him to catch up and take a few minutes rest… and actually Floyd didn't want to make it look as though Spencer was not as awesome as he was.

Floyd looked over his shoulder and smiled at the very sweaty out of breath Spencer. 'Awesome.' He muttered as Spencer crouched down next to him. Spencer asked what it was that was so awesome… 'Well _you_ are. Why else would I knock around with you? You are a spectacular being. You've a razor sharp mind, you look fucking fantastic, you're mine… so yeah… awesome is the word.'

Spencer let out a snort of a laugh. 'Well you're pretty awesome yourself.' He replied.

'Good looking? Intelligent? Brilliant in bed?' Floyd asked.

'All that and more.' Deep breaths… long deep breaths. Spencer had his right hand pressed hard under his ribs. He didn't want to get a stitch and have to slow Floyd down.

'More? Tell me.' Floyd was looking down at the ground his fingers were resting on.

'No time. There's just too much. We have to go get Sam.' Spencer was grinning at Floyd who Spencer considered to not only be the most beautiful being who ever lived but also in a very odd and twisted way, the most loyal. Or was this situation just confusing him.

'Well, I'll keep that for another time then. You're right. Let's go get that son of a bitch and mash that freak Ambrose to a pulp.'

They took time to have a drink of Ambrose's water and then stood, stretched and started off again. This time Floyd kept a slightly slower pace, not that Spencer noticed. It still felt like he was going to explode his lungs and tear the muscles in his legs trying to keep up. Every half hour or so, Floyd stopped and let Spencer have a drink. He took one too, but didn't actually need it, but for a reason of his own he didn't want Spencer to feel that he was slowing them down by being such a… well - human… he supposed that was the best description. Anyway, Floyd liked to watch Spencer drinking from a water bottle. He loved the way his lips moved and the way his throat moved when he was drinking. When Spencer tipped his head back like that and his hair dropped back from his face and he could see the blood pumping under the skin of his neck it almost made Floyd weak at the knees. Only almost. It was a lovely thing to see though… Spencer had over the course of the years since he'd reached adulthood gained the most wondrous stomach. Not an inch of fat. He could see his ribs and the red mark on his skin where Spencer kept pressing his hand to stop his diaphragm going into spasms. If Floyd had the talent to do so, he'd buy a lump of marble and spend a few years carving that stomach, neck, face… hip bones…

'We have to go.' Floyd suddenly said. Watching Spencer was beginning to make him feel too tingly. If they stayed there for much longer he'd have to… Floyd's hands went into fists at his side… He'd have to smack the living shit out of Spencer and fuck him till he was bleeding his life out of his arse, and he didn't have time to do that right now. 'Spencer…' Floyd took the water bottle from him and screwed the cap back on. 'The screams have stopped. Either he's dead and we're too late or he's OK. What do you think?'

Spencer's eyes went wide… where was this leading? 'I think we need to hurry up and get there.'

'Yeah, thought you'd say that.' The bottle was put back into the bag and Floyd gave Spencer a small smirk. 'Can you read my mind? Seriously… can you?'

'Pardon?'

'Never mind… just wondering.'

'I'll never understand you… after all this time I still don't understand why you say or ask some of the things you do.'

'Probably best it stays that way. Let's go.'

They could hear more the closer they got. No more of the blood curdling screams they'd heard before, but now just cries and howls. Sam was a noisy fuck, but that wasn't what was going on. Floyd knew that much at least. He also felt that the closer they were getting to Sam the more his head was pounding. It started with a spike of pain right between his eyes and it had curled back over and behind his eyes and now was a tight band around his brain. This time when he stopped it wasn't because Spencer needed to catch up. Floyd had actually slowed down considerably and Spencer was keeping good pace with him. This time he stopped because his nose suddenly exploded into a fountain of a nosebleed. He'd not had one so bad in a long old time. It wasn't bright red fresh blood dripping out, it was lumpy and dark and stinking. He ignored Spencer's exclamations of panic and pinched hard on the bridge of his nose with one hand and indicating that he needed a smoke with the other. He ignored Spencer's barrage of questions and alarm as he spat out lumps of blood to the ground by his feet.

'Something – is – in – my – fucking – _head_!' Floyd finally managed to say.

'Something? What?'

'Rummaging.'

Spencer didn't fully understand, but he knew what it was like for it to feel as though something was inside his head. He knew that feeling very well. He rubbed at the bruise he still had between his eyes and scratched at the sore places on his scalp. 'Ambrose?'

'Mother fucker.' Floyd spat out more blood, wiped at his still dripping nose and stood. 'He is so dead.' Floyd pressed his fists to his temples. 'Need to block the fuck. Give me a few.'

Spencer didn't know what to do, so he did the only thing he could think of, he stood closely in front of Floyd and wrapped his arms tightly around him. It wouldn't help Floyd, at least Spencer didn't think it would help Floyd, but it helped Spencer. But he felt Floyd place his hands on the back of his neck and he felt Floyd rest his head on his shoulder. He wasn't pushing him away… At least not yet. 'Just let me know what you want me to do… you need another smoke?'

'You're doing just great.' Floyd muttered. 'Give me a few more minutes…'

They stood there in a bloody embrace as Floyd coughed gunk over Spencer's shoulder and bled from his nose over that pretty skin… and they listened to Sam's almost dog-like howling coming from somewhere very close by now. They'd left the track Spencer had taken. Left the markers behind them a while ago, when they first heard the screams, but Spencer thought they were close. There was something about the air here… and of course the sound level and quality of Sam's sounds of pain.

'What's he doing to Sam?' Spencer moaned. 'What the hell is going on? Did I scream like that?'

'Babes… this shit should never have happened. Shouldn't have let you go off on your own.' That was as close to _sorry_ that Floyd was going to get. Spencer took it and locked it away somewhere safe. A rare treasure. A real apology.

'No point in regretting it. We need to help Sam.'

Slowly they let go of each other. The bleeding had stopped. Floyd's face was ghostly white with smears of dark red across it. Something from a horror movie. They moved on again, but now they were walking… Floyd's headache slowly increasing, feeling like there was a spike driven between his eyes and something was mashing his brains, but he thought that whatever had been in there was just now on the outer edges. He'd pushed it back. It could maybe find out what he had for dinner last night or when he last had a slash, but not much else.

Spencer's own head felt light. One of his ears was heavy and full, as though he was on an aeroplane or he had an ear infection. Not anything he couldn't deal with, but he felt ill and it was getting worse the closer they got to the pump and Sam and probably Ambrose. His back was bleeding too. He didn't realise as he couldn't actually see it and sweat was running down his back anyway, but the scar Floyd had given Spencer was open and raw and the blood was joining the sweat and running happily down his back. Floyd had seen it. He'd noted it well, but he didn't know what it meant. Why it would happen. How it had anything to do with fuck all! If indeed it did… so he said nothing. If Spencer didn't know then it was one less thing to worry about.

The small building started off as a slightly darker blob amongst the shadows. Floyd gestured to it as he ran and Spencer managed a nod without making the cavern spin around. They kept going and now all they could hear was the sound of their own breathing and pounding hearts. There was no sound coming from the small building at all and this worried Spencer. What if Sam hadn't even made it this far? What if they'd been wrong and had left Sam behind them somewhere screaming in pain… 'It's wrong.' Spencer stopped running. 'We cant go there. This is wrong Floyd, we need to turn back. Sam's not here.'

Floyd stopped too and spun on Spencer causing a long cast off of blood and drool as he did so. 'Spencer, sit there. Stay.'

'Like a dog.' Spencer snapped back.

'Just like a good dog. Sit, stay, no barking.'

'Not funny. He's not there. We've come to the wrong place.' Spencer flopped down to sit though and with his elbows on his thighs he rested his head in his hands.

Floyd approached and hunkered down in front of him. 'Headache? Feeling tense? Anxious? You need a good seeing to is all. Sam's there. That fucker Ambrose is playing games. You want to play his game then you sit there and let him fuck with your mind? I'm not going to assume that we've made an error until I've killed the bitch who fucked you. OK… any last words before I leave – alone – to fight the evil monster?'

'I'll come with you, I just feel…'

'If you come with me, you gotta remember whose team you're playing on. You're not Ambrose's dog. Understand? Whatever he says to you and whatever he does, you're mine.'

'Understood.

They walked. Floyd pulled out a blade from his baldric. Spencer muttered words under his breath and actually believed none of it. As they got closer Spencer's words stopped. They could see Sam's bow still in the holster and they could see his arrows still in the quiver. Sam's backpack was laying near the door and his knife was slightly further away from his other things which looked like they'd just been dropped. The knife seemed more as though it'd been thrown… lobbed at nothing by appearances. 'Gather up Sam's things. Get ready to leg it if we – if _you_ have to. Take Sam's things if you do.'

o-o-o

Sam thought he was dead. There really could be no other reason he was in the amount of pain he was in. No one could be in such agony and still be alive. He was very sure of that. He was also very sure that Ambrose had nailed him to the rear wall of the pump room by a spike between his eyes. He tried a few times to reach up and pull it out, but his hands were nailed to the wall too; at about hip height at his sides. He had a feeling that something was through his knees too and he knew that his feet were off the floor. No… he was sure… being crucified by Ambrose was the most painful thing he'd experienced. There was a dreadful buzz, buzz, buzzing in his head. It started from that nail, which seemed to be made up of something neon and blue and shiny and glittery and unreal, and travel down his body to the tip of his toes were every few minutes it exploded out causing Sam to shake and drool and bite his tongue and sometimes his eyes rolled up into his head and he lost track of time.

This _wasn't_ what he'd wanted. He'd not been given water. He'd not been given any damned thing. Ambrose hadn't even screwed him! He'd done nothing but stick him like a butterfly to the back wall of the hut. He'd not spoken to Sam and when Sam had tried to beg Ambrose to let him go he'd just run a finger down Sam's chest and shaken his head.

And licked his lips.

And snapped his teeth together.

And said… 'Very tasty.'

And that was all. He didn't try to stop Sam from screaming.

Ambrose was waiting.

And he didn't have to wait much longer.

'Ambrose you mother fucking cunt!' Floyd bellowed. He needed Ambrose out here. He was not going into the creature's lair. 'Get your arse out here and show yourself!'

Spencer and Floyd watched as the door slowly opened. Floyd heard Spencer let out a hiss from between his teeth. It was all Floyd needed to know. It was the right person. There was a strange blue flickering glow somewhere inside the building. To Spencer it looked like a neon light with a problem. Ambrose was dressed as Spencer remembered him. Dark shirt and pants with suspenders over his shoulders. He had straggly shoulder length fair hair… _The colour of hay_ Floyd immediately thought… _I wonder if it smells like that?_ Then Floyd raised a fist to his head and shook it slowly.

'Good try you bastard, but not good enough.'

Ambrose let out a small chuckle. 'Funny what you have running over the surface of your brain… you have that creature there as your fuck, and that other dog as your, well as your dog! And yet it's yellow hair and the smell of horses which you crave! That's funny! Don't you think that's funny Spencer?'

Reid said nothing. He tried not to even look at the man in case he did or said something he didn't want to do.

'Let my dog go.' Floyd said in the most commanding voice he could manage.

'I'll make you an offer.' Ambrose smirked… and it made the slightly worn appearance of his face smooth out slightly. 'You can have what you crave but you will give me the dog. He's interesting! So much filth in that small mind of his. So much… Spencer you wouldn't believe what he wants to do to you! Gosh almighty! Even made me blush a bit.'

'I'm not interested in your offer and Spencer's not interested in your lies. Let him go or I'll turn you into a bloody smear all over hell. Don't mistake my words as a threat… they're a fucking promise.'

Ambrose though, did make the offer. He snapped his fingers and that offer was standing there in front of Floyd with huge green terrified eyes and that damned hair. Floyd blinked, licked his lips and shook his head. 'It's not real. You just plucked that from my head. It's not real and if it was I'd have to still turn the offer down.

The lad with the blonde hair and green eyes was pushed forwards. He was probably about fourteen years old, a skinny kid wearing a pale blue checked shirt with the sleeves rolled up beyond his elbows. He had on rough slightly baggy jeans which came to his shins and a pair of old battered leather sandals on his feet. But it was the face… and the hair which Floyd was trying to rip his gaze away from. The slightly wavy hair with the sun kissed highlights which reached to his collar and then curled around in little twists, just big enough to wind your fingers through.

'It's not him.' Floyd said again.

Spencer had no idea who this person was. He'd never seen him before, but he could see by the look on the lad's face that he knew Floyd and he could equally tell that he wished he didn't.

'You raped him.' Ambrose told Floyd. 'You must remember that train trip… you killed a load of people and whilst still in your blood lust you fucked this poor boy.'

'No… it's not him.' Floyd repeated. 'That never happened.' He added quickly.

'Well why don't we let the boy tell us… Tell him… Go for it Adam… tell Floyd what you remember.'

The lad shook his head. His chin wobbled as though he was going to burst into tears and then the slightly freckled face settled again. 'You raped me. We knelt in puddles of blood and you forced yourself onto me.'

Floyd took a step back. 'You… you wanted that!' Floyd exclaimed. 'You were begging for it! You never… not once did you say you didn't…'

'You ruined me. You turned me into a monster. You turned me into a murderer.'

'I gave you gold! I gave you treasures and horses and…'

'You paid me off with gold you took from the men you killed! You paid for my silence with dead man's gold!'

Spencer took a step forwards, but Floyd placed a hand on his shoulder to stop him going further. 'Get Sam. I'll deal with this shit.'

'I shot Sam in the back with my Pa's shotgun. Then when he was laying there in the sand bleeding and crying like a baby, I shot him again in the back of his neck. And that's what you turned me into.'

Floyd took a step towards him. 'I rescued you. I took you from that place where you spent your days piling up corpses to be burnt! I took you from that…'

'I would like to say that you're a charitable man, but you didn't rescue me because you were being kind. You took me from that place so you could abuse me… touch me… humiliate me… turn me into a monster like you.'

'Adam…'

'Oh such sweet words. I assume…' Ambrose said with a laugh in his voice, '…that you don't want to go to Floyd?'

'I'd sooner spend eternity in hell than be with that pig. He took everything from me. Everything.'

Ambrose clicked his fingers again… Adam was gone… if he'd even ever been there.

Spencer heard Floyd's slightly distressed voice howling the word… 'NO!' As Spencer ducked through the doorway into the pump room. The bluish glow was coming from the rear wall, which was lit up like Christmas and Sam was pinned there like an obscene fairy. A very obscene one as it happened. Spencer moved around the side of the pump and the big dip in the floor and just stood there looking at Sam who seemed to be pinned to the wall by – light? Seeing the thing going through Sam's skull made his own head hurt and he wondered if the same had been done to him. Had be been nailed to the wall by fairy lights? He didn't know. Thankfully that was something he couldn't remember.

'Sam.' Spencer reached out to touch him on the shoulder. 'I'm going to help.'

Sam's eyes opened and for once both of them seemed to be looking in the same direction, directly at Spencer. 'Don't touch me.' Sam hissed at Spencer. 'It'll kill you. Don't touch. He's got me wired up to something.'

'What's he doing? How has he done this?' Spence walked to the side to see if the blue light was actually coming out of the back of Sam's head… he couldn't see. Too much dirty hair in the way.

Sam opened his mouth to say something just as his back arched and a sizzling buzz of something exited his feet. There was a slight smell of burnt toenails and ozone and urine; a definite smell of fresh urine, which Spencer, being sensitive and not there to humiliate didn't mention. Sam let out a yelp of pain and his eyes closed and his mouth drooled. It seemed like the end of the conversation for now at least. Spencer turned from Sam and had a quick look around the place. There was nothing. Nothing at all… apart from the pump and the dip in the ground in front of it. For some reason Spencer had expected to locate a secret stash of body oils and shower gels. There was nothing. He looked back at Sam who was shuddering and shaking, pinned about six inches off the floor and then Spencer listened to what was going on outside.

'What is your purpose?' Floyd was asking.

'Why do I need one? Cant I be doing this because I _want_ to? Cant a man have fun?'

'Let Sam go.'

'We have talked about that. Can do it. So sorry… he's just so _interesting_… I can almost smell his perverted flesh burning as I leech off him. Cant be much more fun than that now can it? So you don't want to swap for Adam? What about Albion?'

Floyd looked at the open doorway into the hut. He was hoping that Sam would be standing there, but there was still the blue light coming through and now it seemed stronger. What the hell was Spencer doing? Why had he not dragged Sam out of there yet? 'I'm not now and never have been interested in Albion. A surface thought maybe, but not the right one. Try harder. See me after class. Do one hundred lines. I'm not swapping Sam for Albion.'

'Bern.' Ambrose said… and with a click of his fingers another young man was standing there. Bern again was mid teens. He was wearing a rough homespun pair of breeches and an undyed colourless shirt which laced up the front. He was bare foot… and again it was the hair… a tousled mess of brown locks reaching just below his ears.

'I never wanted Bern.' Floyd announced. 'Never!'

'You let me rub against you.' Bern told Floyd. 'You let me dry hump you. You told me that you would protect me. You said that you'd not let Sam get me, and you lied.'

Floyd shook his head so violently that it started a nosebleed again. 'I never… I didn't say that! Well, maybe… OK! OK I said that! So what you going to do about it?'

'Haunt your fucking deceitful ignorant twisted soul forever. I'm going to visit you in your dreams and show you every nasty thing you've done… starting right at the beginning of time and going right up to now… right this minute, because I know what you're thinking!' The lad called Bern stepped up close to Floyd. 'And I know what you did to me after Sam slit my throat.'

'Spencer!' Floyd called out after taking a step away from Bern. 'Get Sam out of there! I don't care what you do, just get him the hell out.'

'What about me?' Floyd spun around at the sound of a long lost but never forgotten voice.

'You? What I never hurt you!' Floyd blinked at yet another person Ambrose presented him with.

The man was tall. Maybe taller even than Spencer. He appeared to be in his mid thirties. This was no kid. He was broad shouldered and strong… he was roughly shaven and had on a Tshirt and jeans. A good looking man who didn't look like he was going to put up with any of Floyd's shit or excuses… And Floyd knew this.

'Don't.' Floyd said and gave the man a dismissive gesture. 'I know what you're going to say. I let you down. I let you die. I raped you. I abused you and lied to you, but you have to remember that times were different. Times were very different… and you… you fucking stole from me!'

'I stood at your side through it all. I stood there and let you slowly chip away…'

'At your veneer. Your false self… I just let you see who you really were.'

The man folded his arms over his chest. 'Is that what you really think you did? You were helping me? Showing me the light? You _cursed_ me! You sent me to hell! You dragged me down and you did what you did to Adam, Bern, Albion… You destroyed us!'

Floyd shrugged. 'Whatever… if that's what you want to think.'

He turned his back on the man and looked at Ambrose. 'Very funny. Hope this is going to keep you amused for a while, cos it's gonna stop real soon.'

'I'm stopping you? I'm pointing a gun at your head? Stop me then! You don't want to see it, then stop me! But I think you're enjoying it. I think you're revelling in the pain you passed on to other people. Crossing worlds, raping, despoiling, hurting, dragging people down with you the way you have done with Spencer… all the same. Over and again you'll do it. You think you're helping these people? You think that money you have obtained by selling human flesh to butchers is good money? You think that trading your arse for some cash is worthy?'

'Never! I've never!'

'You want me to name your clients?'

Floyd stepped back and glanced to Spencer who was still without Sam but now standing out side the pump room. Floyd waved a _where the hell is Sam?_ Hand at Spencer.

'Trapped.' Spencer replied. Spencer then frowned and walked back into the pump room. He wanted to hear what was going on with Floyd, but he also wanted to see if his idea was going to work.

Spencer had heard only part of what was going on outside. The room seemed to suck away sound and muffle it. Though earlier when Sam had been screaming they'd been able to hear him well enough. Spencer wondered if it was just his own ears that didn't want to hear what was going on out there. Was Ambrose lining up all of Floyd's ex's? All his lost lovers? Spencer didn't know and didn't really _want_ to know, but that guy in the Tshirt and jeans was actually older in appearance than Floyd was! Positively ancient by comparison if you looked at the boys popping up and pointing accusing fingers at Floyd… boy after boy… teenagers all of them… kids. Dead kids. Kid's Floyd had abused and killed. He sat on the floor in front of Sam just as another weird spasm went through him and something dark and maybe evil shot out of Sam's feet like a black bolt of energy.

'Sam… something is going on outside. Is that anything to do with you? I don't expect you to answer, but if it is and if you know all of those people, can you try to block it?'

He didn't expect and answer and didn't get one, but Sam spat… he hawked a gob onto the floor in front of Spencer. It was a good enough answer.

'I believe that you are possessed… or are held by demonic force and I'm going to attempt to release you. I'll do what I can, but please before something dreadful happens out there, try to block those thoughts.' Then with his eyes fixed on Sam's feet he started…'Egredere tu es protectio corporis intrare. Nullus poterit vobis alica. Per fidem et amorem virtutis et loco excedere non dico vobis qua vos vado tergum ut a. Alica autem, quae ponit hic, et egomitto vobis retexo ipsum foveas sunt Inferni eras. Nullam huc.' Spencer muttered the words quietly at first and as Sam started screaming and writhing and bolts of light started not to pierce him from the outside but seem to fire out from within, Spencer kept going… the 'Nullam huc.' Was repeated over again, louder and louder as Spencer stood up and stared at Sam in the eyes… those pale blue eyes… which weren't Sam's but the eyes of something else looking out from inside of Sam's face. It was hideous and maybe one of the most terrifying things Spencer had ever seen… the voice coming out of Sam's mouth even more so… did Spencer have something like this inside of him? He had no idea! 'Nullam huc!' Spencer spat out at the face.

'You cant stop me, cunt!' A voice which certainly wasn't Sam's growled back at him. 'You have no faith!'

'Vade daemon. Ut ostenderet tibi et numquam rursus.'

'Vade… begone yourself you child! You're not even of this place. You cant force me out!'

But Spencer could hear that voice wasn't so sure… he could see those strange blue eyes of Sam's begin to glow. He could see Sam's hair begin to stand on end like he'd just licked the third rail.'

'Vade…' Spencer started again… he didn't get any further… something shot from Sam's chest… Spencer thought it was from right above Sam's heart and smacked into Spencer. The force of what felt like an electric shock lifted him off his feet. He flew back, catching his hip on the side of the pump and hit the wall next to the door.

'Don't you dare fuck with me!' The thing in Sam screamed. 'Filthy whore! Filthy cock-gobbling, arse-sucking whore!'

Floyd could hear the howling scream coming from Sam. Spencer seemed to be annoying him, or whatever was in him, or using him, but it wasn't stopping Ambrose from presenting Floyd with yet another painful sight.

He stood at about five six… he was bronzed, oiled, almost naked and so beautiful that Floyd would have sold his soul to have that person back in his life. It wasn't him though. Floyd knew it wasn't.

'You murdered me. You murdered me and then you killed my people. You weren't happy that you raped, murdered, then raped me again before setting my corpse into a river to float away and rot… no, you had to kill my people too.'

'You exaggerate. I didn't kill them. You're not Little River. Go away.' Floyd looked at Albion. 'Running out of names? Running out of things to try to make me feel bad? I have no regrets. I've maybe, but only maybe made a few mistakes, but regrets, never.'

Little River popped out of existence but the tall bloke in the faded blue Tshirt was still standing there with an accusatory look on his face.

'What? What do you _want_ from me! What you looking at me like that for? Tell you what? You, the big man who always does everything right and never puts a step wrong… Go rescue Sam.'

'He doesn't need my help. Never did. Never will. But I know what you did. I saw most every nasty little thing you did. I watched you.'

'Fuck off.' Floyd again put his back to him. 'Just fuck off, Eth… did my best. Cant do more.'

'Then your best really does suck the big one, Floyd. Your best stinks.'

Floyd ignored this comment. It might well be true but Floyd wasn't going to show a damned hallucination that he was right. He didn't look at Ambrose either. Floyd wanted to believe that Ambrose was just a bad bit of rotten imagination too, but someone had screwed Spencer and however good Spencer's imagination was it didn't provide him with a bath and hair wash! He walked in long angry strides towards the building, but a hand on his shoulder made him stop.

'Going to run to help your boy? Want to know what I did to him? What I offered him?'

Floyd pushed the hand off him. Hallucinations couldn't do that. He turned to look at Ambrose. 'You know what? I don't care. I don't give a damn what you did to Spencer. Whatever it was, he survived and cant even remember. It's win win the way I look at it. He's doing a good job in there too. Good enough to bother you.'

'I'm not bothered.'

'And nor am I.' Floyd pulled a cheroot out of his pocket and lit it with his silver lighter. 'Want one?' Ambrose shook his head, but that smirk on his face… oh that smirk… Floyd was going to wipe that off and put it back where it belonged. 'Where's my sword?'

'Yours? That was yours? I thought it was Spencer's. It's mine now. Payment.'

'Wasn't his to give. I want it returned.'

Ambrose shook his head. 'Too late. Much too late…' As he spoke they both heard a scream coming from both Sam and Spencer. Ambrose's eyes flicked towards the building, but Floyd attempted to ignore it.

'You are going to die for harming my boys. You know that don't you?'

Ambrose's smirk turned into a smile. 'Again I point out that I'm not armed and I'm not threatening you. What's stopping you from… oh say, breaking my neck?'

'I will do that… after I've stomped your brains out onto the floor. Oh yes I will. I'll do every nasty little thing you think I would do to you. I'll hang you up by your feet and fuck you till your head drops off… but I want my sword back first.' Floyd placed a hand on his heart. 'Wont use it on you. You have my word. I say that… on the life of Sammy-boy in there and Spencer… on their lives, I'd not use it on you.'

Ambrose tucked his thumbs behind his suspenders. 'So you cant kill me because you want your sword? You cant kill me because you are a materialistic bitch?'

'Something like that, but materialism will wane and I'll forget and kill you anyway.'

Ambrose now spread his hands out… 'Go… kill me! Kill me before I ram my iron rod up your dirty maggot covered behind. Kill me before I smother your cunt in there in the rose water he's so desperate for. Kill me before I skull fuck you. I'm going to tear you apart, Flanders. I'm going to rip you in to pieces… and even your precious Old Woman wont be able to help you. You're lost… very lost. Not like Spencer… he's from up top… not like Sam… he's from here. This is his home… you though. Oh you're special. And I'm going to get the award; the stick on star of excellence, for finally stopping your poison.'

Floyd slipped his baldric of knives off and dropped it to the side and was about to pounce on Ambrose and scratch his eyes out of his head, but oddly it was Ambrose who took that first leap. And a damned good leap it was too. Floyd felt himself being pushed back as Ambrose slammed into him and though Floyd prepared for a thumping it was to his hair that Ambrose's hands went… moreover to Floyd's scalp.

'Oh no you don't you motherfucker!' Floyd instantly knew what this thing was going to do. It would send its energy through Floyd's skull and right into his brain… it would then rip and tear at every memory Floyd had, and he had rather a few. Some damned good ones too and he didn't want them lost. He head-butted, brought his knee up into Ambrose's groin, pushed him away and tore at his face… all at the same time… 'You son of a bitch!' Floyd could feel the burning on his scalp even though the hands hadn't made proper contact. He could smell burning hair and scorched skin though. 'That's why you bathed Spencer! You mother fucker!' And this time Floyd was on Ambrose.

It was a very typical Floyd type fight… punching, kicking, scratching, biting… Floyd wasn't the sort to not do something just because it was maybe not manly. If it could cause pain, then Floyd did it. He bit down on Ambrose's left ear, ripping and tearing at the cartilage and skin. He bit Ambrose on the nose and had something in his mouth worth spitting out. He knocked out teeth… crushed balls, gouged eyes… in return, Ambrose bit Floyd on the side of the neck, hard enough for blood to flow pretty damned big. He also gave Floyd a ball crushing kick, and a smack in Floyd's mouth so hard that Floyd thought he'd not have a tooth left in his mouth.

At some point Ambrose had lost his suspenders and now kneeling on Floyd's back he had one end wrapped around his neck. 'Gonna pop it right off your damned shoulders.' Ambrose boasted.

Floyd slipped his fingers under the thing digging into his neck, but if something spectacular didn't happen real soon, Ambrose was going to keep his word on this one. He could feel his blood squirting out around what Ambrose had slipped around his neck.

Spencer had been sitting on the floor near to the door. He couldn't hear what was going on outside anymore. A horrific buzzing had filled his head. He couldn't even hear the words he was saying… but something seemed to be happening. Sam's mouth was open and issuing forth a scream like the one they'd first heard. A blood curdling howl. He was shaking and his body seemed to be twisting and writhing as more of the strange lights burst from him… then it happened. At first the wall Spencer was leaning on started to vibrate, then the floor, things fell of the ceiling; bits of stone and lumps of rock and then with a final howl Sam suddenly parted company with the wall and was propelled across the room where he landed with a yelp and a whimper on the ground next to Reid. Then there was a clatter, something shiny dropped… and though Spencer couldn't see exactly what it was he knew it was the sword. He grabbed Sam and dragged him from the room then legged it back in. More things fell on him, a few coins, bones, some gem stones… payments made most likely. The floor bucked and swayed, the walls formed cracks and heaved open. Spencer placed his hand on the hilt of the sword, turned and ran back towards the door. He was halfway across the room when the roof collapsed, the walls buckled inwards and the whole place became a pile of black rubble. Spencer felt something smack him on the back of the head. He felt his knees giving way and then there was nothing but darkness.


	37. Chapter 37

37

It would have been nice to have been able to say that Sam's loyalty to Floyd and maybe even Spencer kicked in. Maybe it would have been nice to even say that it was his own survival instinct which got him on his feet so quickly. He was shaking, his only good working eye was fuzzy, and his feet felt like someone had set fire to them. He could hear the building collapsing behind him and slowly he turned to look. Then he looked back at Ambrose who seemed to have incapacitated Floyd. There was a lot of blood coming from somewhere. Sam glanced at his bow and then at Floyd's baldric of knives and it was to that that Sam walked, letting out a hiss of anger between his teeth with each step. Sam was over flowing with fury. He'd come here for a bath. That wasn't so much to ask for was it? He'd come for water and to wash the filth off and now the place had fallen down and buried the pump.

'You motherfucker!' Sam snarled. It was a rough dry sounding voice, but Ambrose heard it well. Sam spoke the words directly into Ambrose's ear as he drew one of the blades hard and deep across the bastard's throat. 'You bleeding cunt!' One knife now Sam left sticking out of the demon's throat the other he pushed into the back of his neck.

Ambrose didn't hear Sam sneak up behind him. He was too engrossed in the joy of removing Floyd's head. He was planning what he was going to do with it. Dry it out and use it as a football… kick the fucker's head around hell… that was his plan. When the knife sliced across his throat and the words were spat into his ear he couldn't quite understand what had happened. He used his free hand to reach up to where there seemed to be a dreadful amount of blood but he kept pulling on the thing around Floyd's neck. Ambrose didn't feel the knife going into the back of his neck. He didn't feel the way Sam twisted the blade and sliced through every important nerve in his neck. He did feel himself jerk backwards but if he'd done that or had been pulled he didn't know.

Something had gone wrong. Someone was interfering.

Floyd felt the tightening of the thing around his neck. It was so tight that he could feel it was nearly at the point where it was going to just slide on through his flesh. He still had fingers stuck behind it, but they were numb and at risk of serious damage… actually they were at risk of being sliced off, but if they're sliced off as your head is removed, it makes no great difference.

His head was pulled back, the lights had gone out, he had reached that stage where you are not really alive, but not quite dead yet either… that strange time where your limbs are jerking and your eyes have either bulged almost to popping point or have rolled back into your skull, or both. It was the stage where unfortunately your bladder lets go and hopefully a bright light shines down and the angels forgive you for all the fuckery you've carried out and take you home… And as he lay there under the weight of Ambrose, home was the place Floyd wanted to be. He wasn't going to beg and he wasn't going to plead, but he did have a final thought before the blood sprayed over the back of his head and the cord cut in deeper one last time… he thought that he would happily give up everything just to be able to go home again.

The cord loosened though. The dragging pulling digging sensation stopped and Floyd flopped forwards onto his front, smacking his face on the floor and putting the lights out completely for now.

Ambrose though was far from finished. He might have been confused over what had just happened and his neck might have almost been removed from his shoulders but he was not quite dead yet. He turned quickly in jerky slightly uncoordinated shudders and looked at Sam standing there behind him with a bloody knife in his hand. 'You?' Ambrose gurgled.

'You bastard.' Sam spat the words at Ambrose between his clenched teeth.

'Oh Floyd will recover, seems that poor Spencer got a bit squashed though.'

'I'm not talking about them! I don't give a fuck about them! I wanted a damned bath you shit! I wanted to wash my hair and look good again! I want to die looking like a backstreet fagging slut, not stinking like a cheap sodding zoo keeper! I just wanted to be clean!'

Ambrose sort of laughed and his head slopped back stretching the slit in his neck. Sam could see the sinews and muscles pulsing and moving around inside his throat… bubble popping and floating out of where he was now taking his breaths from. Sam stared open eyed as the smell of fresh blood wafted over him and Ambrose lifted a hand and pulled his head back into position again.

'You wanted a bath?'

Sam nodded slowly. He could see all the blood flowing down the demon's front. He would run out eventually… soon, Sam hoped.

'You are a whore.' Ambrose commented. 'Not meant as an insult. I've got stuff I can offer you. Stick a needle in your arm…'

'I wanted a fucking bath! Why couldn't you just let me have a bath, you son of a bitch!'

'You never asked.'

The rage which had gotten Sam in such a fury suddenly returned. Much in the way that Ambrose had suddenly pounced on Floyd, now Sam pounced on Ambrose. He planted the heel of his left hand under Ambrose's chin, forcing his head to drop back and weirdly rest upside down on his back… he wrapped his legs around Ambrose's waist and he punched the knife into the demon's chest where his heart should be. He pulled it out. He pushed it back in again. As Ambrose flailed backwards, Sam gave up trying to get the heart and went for the head. One hand pulled it back up again then both twisted it. He had to actually twist it around three times before he was able to jump back and pull it with him. It made an odd crunching snapping sound and then Sam was sitting on the floor with Ambrose's head sitting there staring inwards at his groin.

'Eww…' Sam groaned and pushed it away. 'Killed the fuck.' Sam muttered, then fell back and passed out in a very dramatic, back of hand on forehead, swoon.

Floyd woke up with a neckache – from hell – and a pounding face and headache to accompany it. He didn't move at first. His forehead and nose was pressed against the smooth, dark, glassy floor he was laying on. He opened his eyes and saw nothing. When he slowly moved his head to the side with a small inner scream… and a big outer moan, he at least could see, so he smiled at the thought of not being blind. It was a start. He could move his head, he could see. Life was fantastic. His head was still part of the rest of his lovely self.

He could hear crying coming from the direction he wasn't looking in, so after pulling his fingers out from behind the cord wrapped around his neck, he placed them on the ground either side of his shoulders and turned his head to look at where the crying was coming from. Sam. Of course it was Sam. Who else would cry like that? Sobbing, heartbreaking cries. Did Sam think that he was dead? Was that why he was crying. Floyd would like to think that was the reason. It made him feel all warm and happy inside to see Sam falling apart with grief. It turned Floyd's frown – upside down! He smiled and tried to say something, but his voice just came out as a dry croak. From where he was laying he glanced around. Spencer? Where the hell was Spencer? What was that pile of rocks Sam was sitting in front of, pulling bits away with each heart wrenching sob? Floyd managed with some muttering and bad language to roll over onto his back. He waved his arms around trying to get Sam's attention and finally after about five minutes or maybe ten fucking _hours_ Sam responded and turned to look at Floyd.

_I'm alive! I'm well! Everything is going to be wonderful!_ That at least was what Floyd tried to convey by the smile and the gesticulations. He wasn't sure that Sam got the message though. Floyd watched Sam drop a lump of rock to the side and then on his hands and knees he crawled over to Floyd. He stopped right in front of him. Dirty tears had turned the filth already on Sam's face to mud. The smell was impossible to ignore. Sam pressed his forehead against Floyd's and let out a long cry of despair.

Though it was nice to see that Sam was alive and well and hadn't been eaten by Ambrose, Floyd was now wondering what all the tears and fuss was about. He reached up and put a hand on the side of Sam's face.

'Where's Spencer?' He managed to whisper.

Sam moved back away a foot or so from Floyd. 'Is that all that worries you? I saved your life and you ask about Spencer? What about me?'

'Sam, love, tell me what happened.' He coughed up some muck and grimaced.

'Ambrose was on you so I took his head. I left the heart for you, but if you don't want it…'

'Was your kill… yours to take. Where is Spencer?'

Sam frowned and sat back on his hunkers. 'I dunno.' But his eyes drifted over to the rubble.

'He was still in there?' Floyd now managed to get onto his backside and with a fist pressing hard on each side of his head he was able to concentrate long enough to try to work this out. 'He is under the rubble?' Again Floyd's heart leapt. _That_ was why Sam was crying and digging through it. Not only had he saved _his_ life but now he was working on saving Spencer's. Floyd had a few seconds of warm pride filling him. At last Sam had grown up a bit… a tiny, hardly noticeable bit, but…'

'I dunno.' Sam said.

But… 'Where is Spencer?' Floyd lost that warmth and replaced it with something which might have been annoyance. 'Was he still in the building?'

'I dunno.' Sam moved back away further.

'Have you called for him? Can you sense him?'

Sam stood up and turned his back on Floyd. 'Nope. Haven't tried.'

o-o-o

There was a sound. Spencer had been laying squashed and unable to see anything or hear anything for so long that he had come to the decision that this was it. This was what he was going to have for eternity. Something was pinning his legs down, there was something else resting over his shoulders and one of his arms was caught up under him; there didn't seem to be room to move it and after a while of trying he thought that there really was no _reason_ to move it. What would he do if he could? His other arm was stretched out in front of him and his hand was still grasping the hilt of Floyd's sword. Spencer guessed that being buried alive like this was maybe better than spending forever being cooked over a fire pit, or living (if you could class what was happening as _living_) for eternity being tortured. The room had been cool and almost comforting after the airless heat of the cavern, but that coolness had gone now and the heat was slowly building. There was no smell of apples or soap now, just dirt, sweat and other very manly scents. He wasn't sure if that was good or bad, but now… at last, after all that time there was a sound.

It was a grating grinding sound. The sound of rock moving on rock. Was the building going to finish its collapse and crush his aching skull like a burst melon? He didn't really mind. Spencer thought he'd saved Sam, but he had no idea what was going on with Floyd and Ambrose and if Floyd hadn't won… if Floyd was gone?

Spencer didn't want to think of that. He'd tried to live thinking that Floyd was dead before and it had sent him off in a spin of pain and more pain and Joel… He didn't want to even _think_ about Floyd rotting out there with Sam next to him and not being able to join them. He let out a gasp of distress, but it made his chest hurt, it made his heart pound. He could feel it thumping and hammering under the hand he had caught up under himself.

There was space above his head. He knew that because nothing was pressing down on his head and bits occasionally slipped and dropped. Small bits of rock and stone, dust… even a jingling of something which sounded like a coin. He couldn't see though. Maybe he didn't want to.

More of that scraping sound and then a voice.

'Spencer? Please, if you're there let me know.' It was Floyd. A worried Floyd – an alive Floyd!

Spencer spat out a mouthful of dust and croaked back, but only a faint groan came out.

'Just do something. Knock on the rock, bang something, scrape… anything.'

But before he could, there was more noise from above him. A scraping and a groaning of rock. Something was shifting. The other sounds of the scraping had been distant; the other side of the pile he was under, but this was closer. Spencer managed to take a deep breath and call out. 'Stop!' He wasn't sure that he'd been heard. There was just more noise of shifting rocks, more dust falling and now slightly larger lumps dropping on his head and over his arm which was clutching the sword. Spencer turned his head to the side to see if calling out would be easier and something fell and caught him on the cheekbone. He yelped out in surprise. Probably louder this time. Loud enough for someone – Floyd – to hear.

'Spence! Spence is that you babes?' Again a voice which sounded like it was verging on panic.

'I'm OK.' Spencer croaked out. 'Just… just be careful.'

'Shit on a stick! I thought you were dead.'

'Things are shifting. Be careful what you move.'

'Got you babes… heard and understood. Can you cover your head?'

'No… just be careful.'

'Keep talking to me… let me know if more stuff slips. I'm not a fucking miner. Fucking up my fingernails too. You're going to owe me.'

'If you get me out of here alive, I'll pay for you to have a manicure.'

There was sudden silence. Just complete nothing. No scraping, no talking… A terrible deathly silence.

'Spencer?' Floyd suddenly spoke. The panic seemed to be gone from his voice. 'Was that a joke, Babes?'

'No… just keep digging me out of here! Don't go quiet like that. You scared me.'

'Scared myself hun. Don't make me laugh OK, I seem to be suffering from a weak bladder and I don't want to piss myself.'

Spencer smiled to himself. It was going to be all right. Everything was going to work out fine. 'Did Sam… is Sam OK?' The last Spencer could remember he'd just turfed Sam out onto the rocky floor. He hadn't even checked that he was breathing.

'Not the time to discuss Sam. We need to worry about you. He's alive, if that's what you're asking. Alive and… Well, yeah, Sam's still breathing, so you concern yourself about him no more. You know he doesn't give a flying fuck about you – don't you?'

o-o-o

Sam was laying on his front looking away from what Floyd was doing. He had a bloody nose, a split lip, a suspected broken little finger, one eye was closing fast and his shorts were laying about ten foot away. It apparently was his punishment for holding resentment about Adam. Sam knew better though. The dirty boy with the straw coloured hair made Floyd hard and made Floyd maudlin just thinking about him. Sam had hated Adam before. He hated him even more now. Floyd wasn't grateful that Sam had saved his life. He wasn't pleased that he'd taken Ambrose's head. He wasn't pleased to see him and he hadn't given him a cuddle… he'd just said that Ambrose's heart was his if he wanted… and then before he could even do _that_ Floyd had _punished_ him for Adam firstly and then for Bern. The others he didn't seem to care about. Sam didn't have involvement with some of them, but those two… damn… so Floyd had beaten Sam until Sam stopped moving and then used him.

Sam would go to the cops (had they not been in hell) and say that Floyd beat him up and raped him, but they cops would have laughed. You cant rape a whore. It's not possible. They would tell him to go away and stop moaning about a spiteful john. Sam spat blood out onto the ground and let out a shuddering breath.

All he wanted was a bath.

A fucking bath!

And now this shit.

o-o-o

Floyd had – lost his shit – That would be how he would have described it. He tried to say to himself that this wasn't Sam's fault. He'd not toppled a building on top of Spencer. That hadn't been his doing. He'd not lost the sword either, that had been Spencer. Sam had killed the bad guy when Floyd thought his number was up – (given him but a few more minutes and he'd have had Ambrose's arse – at least he liked to think that.)

This was, though, entirely Sam's fault. And Sam needed to be punished.

It started with a slap. Then a harder slap… a punch… some good old fashioned kicking. There'd not really been that much of a resistance. Sam knew he was in the wrong and knew that he deserved every bit of pain. Floyd was in his zone. Ambrose was dead, Spencer probably dead too and Sam was to blame for the whole load.

And so…

Floyd lost his shit.

And then maybe thought as Sam was now laying there doing nothing he might as well fuck him. Would rather it had been Spencer, but this was all that was available.

Lucky for Spencer maybe.

Unfortunate for Spencer. Depending on how you wanted to view the situation.

Floyd finished with Sam and with a parting bit of spite called him Adam. He didn't think that Sam heard, but that didn't matter. It pleased Floyd to have stuck that last little barb in.

Now he was pulling the building apart trying to find Spencer.

Thank the gods… or something, maybe no gods involved here, but thank whoever was listening that Spencer was alive under there and actually seemed quite chirpy.

The roof had originally been made up of wooden slates. They were now slices of stone which Floyd threw to the side as he attempted to clear the weight off the top of the structure, or what was left of it, first. His fingers were sore from where Ambrose had tried to slice them off along with his head and now he had cracked and broken fingernails, which annoyed Floyd more than the lump of cloth he had tied around his neck to try to stop the bleeding.

Fingernails were his main weapon, along with teeth and first and feet. You should keep them strong and sharp. Cant rip a man's balls off with quite so much pleasure if you have chopped off broken fingernails. Floyd also kept one thumb nail slightly serrated. He could cut a person's throat open with it on a good day. Today wasn't a good day though. Both thumb nails were bent back a ragged… both were bloody and fucked up.

Another lump of stone was hefted off and dropped to the side. He glanced over his shoulder to look at Sam. A lovely sight it was… but no time to amuse himself now… had to get his even greater love out from under here and then kiss him all over every inch of his bruised skin…

'Spencer?' He called out and got a faint response. 'Are you bruised?' He attempted to keep the lust out of his voice and make it sound like he was concerned. 'Bleeding?'

'A bit.' Came a muffled reply.

'Good.' Floyd allowed a smile. 'Good that it's only a bit… that's what I mean.'

Another small reply. 'Hurry up.'

'I'm hurrying! I just don't want to kill you by moving the wrong thing. Why did you go back in there anyway? You got Sam out. Why go back?'

At first there was no reply. 'To get your damned sword.' Spencer finally replied.

'Really?' Another lump of stone was moved. Floyd watched it roll away. 'Did you get it?'

'Of course.'

Floyd wanted to jump up and down and yell Hallelujah! But he didn't. Not yet anyway. Spencer was more important than the sword, but it seemed to motivate Floyd to get the rubble off his boy a bit quicker. 'Tell me when you see light.' Floyd called out as he shifted a rather large lump… a bit of wall – it had to be wrenched out and pulled away. It could possibly make the whole lot cave in… on top of his boy (sword) and damage his boy (sword). Everything was going to be great!

'Be careful!' Spencer shouted. He seemed closer. 'I can see light, but something just shifted. It's across my shoulders.'

Floyd found a hand. He found a hand! And it was attached to… (HIS LOVELY SWORD!) to Spencer. Oh great joy… wondrous joy and skippy happiness! 'Nearly there!' Floyd called out. 'So close!' He managed to prise the sword out of Spencer's hand. 'I'll take that.' He snatched it! He couldn't help himself! It was singing to him and calling to him! _Here I am Floyd! Your sword is returned to you!_ Its beautiful voice was singing a welcome home ballad in his head.

'Floyd? You still there?' Spencer's fingers moving and wriggling.

'I'm here. Give me a second to…' _To kiss my sword… to rub it against me and make mad passionate love to it._ '… to put this somewhere safe…' _Like up Sam's arse._ 'Ahh… sweet love.' Floyd muttered.

'Floyd?'

'What? I'm here. Stop fucking nagging me will you? I'm doing my bloody best here. What do you want from me? I was nearly decapitated not more than a few hours ago.'

Silence from Spencer.

Floyd tried just dragging Spencer out by that free hand, but when Spencer started to scream he thought he'd best stop. He had to move more things first. The care he'd taken before seemed to have gone. He was pulling things off and ignoring Spencer's occasional cries or groans. Floyd was bored. Spencer wasn't dead so surely he could dig his own way out? But he'd started now. His fingernails were already buggered. Nothing he could do about that and really, getting his boy back and in a fuckable condition was a nice thought. He bent over those wriggling fingers and kissed each one of them. 'Soon.' He told Spencer and kissed them each again… then sucked on them and nibbled…

'Floyd? Get this stuff off me!'

'Ah…' Floyd replied and moved back to carry on working. Spencer was such a kill joy sometimes.


	38. Chapter 38

38

Now that Floyd had removed most of the roof from on top of Spencer is was easy to see – Spencer was trapped. No way he could get him out. Floyd's arms ached from the dragging and pulling and his fingers were bleeding and now there was a fresh flow of blood coming from his neck. He explained the situation to Spencer. 'You're fucked.' He told him that it was going to take forever to dig him out… Spencer went horribly silent on him. He didn't seem to be arguing the fact that one man… one very injured and maybe even right at this moment bleeding his last lot of life out couldn't remove the larger pieces alone. Floyd would have loved to have gone to Sam and told him to get working with him, but Sam was now curled up and crying again. Floyd would have liked to have been able to do that too, but no, Floyd had to dig Spencer out.

'Babes, give me a few. I need a drink and to rest a while.'

'Don't leave me here.' Spencer spoke back. It wasn't a request. It was a demand. The boy was so fucking demanding sometimes that it did Floyd's head in.

'Just a few, Spence.' A few what? He didn't actually say. It would give him leeway to abandon the _rescue Spencer_ project for a few hours. He moved away from the rubble before Spencer could question him further. He picked up the sword and ran his tongue along the flat of the blade. 'I love you.' Floyd whispered to it and in Floyd's head it issued a declaration of undying love in return. Floyd wrapped the sword carefully in rags from his bag and put it somewhere where he'd not be able to forget it, but wouldn't keep being distracted by it either. Now it was to Sam he went and hunkered down next to.

'I've an idea.' Floyd stroked a finger down Sam's arm.

'You going to drop dead?'

'Such a nice dog.' Floyd smirked in return. 'I was sitting there on that rubble and looking at you. You're filthy. If you help me… help me remove the rubble from on top of Spencer, maybe we'll find that pump. You can have that wash you so need. I'll even wash you myself. You'd like that? I don't think there's soap, but there's water. Help me and I'll help you.'

'You are a liar. You don't want me to wash properly anyway. You love the smell of shit. You stink of it yourself most of the time.'

'Get your arse over there and help me.'

'Or?'

'Or no water. Simple.'

Sam's expression hardened. 'Let me get my shorts back on first.' He muttered. He didn't want to help Floyd, but he really did want to have a proper wash. Sometimes you had to swallow your pride and muck in if you wanted something bad enough. He pulled his shorts back on and walked slowly over to where Floyd was sitting on a rock having a smoke. 'Are we going to leave Ambrose to rot?' Sam enquired.

'Nope. But I want to get Spencer out of here first and… and of course locate the pump… then we'll prepare Ambrose. Fresh meat is going to be champion!' He handed a smoke to Sam. 'Want one?'

Sam took it, being careful not to touch Floyd's bloody hands. 'Yeah, ta. I feel kind of… I don't know, but it feels wrong eating Ambrose. He's you know? He's more like me than…' He pointed to the rubble. '…Spencer. They say cannibalism makes you go crazy. I don't want to end up a loon.'

Floyd nodded and flicked his ash. 'It has been said that eating your own can fuck with your mind. It's psychological. A breakdown of the barriers built up in your mind, but it's bullshit.'

'So if you came across one of _your_ own, and you killed it…'

'My whole purpose of living would be over and I'd end my life. Jump into a pit of lava… it'd never reach the point that it would make me feel like eating it. I'd likely fuck it though. Sam… Ambrose isn't what you are. He's a full on demon. You're just a lesser thing. An afterthought. It's the same as…'

'A cat eating her kitten?'

'No… it's more like a dog eating a frog. Or maybe a maggot eating away at the rotting flesh of a soldier injured in battle.'

'Right… so he's safe.'

'Perfectly safe. Something to look forward to.'

'OK… you promise it's safe, cos you seemed pissed that I'd eaten eggs.'

'Only cos… well because something might want to know who ate them…' But was it really that? Floyd knew that he'd been angry. Maybe eating Ambrose would be a bad idea, but as long as Sam thought it was OK then that would be fine. At least Floyd hoped so. 'Let's go get Spencer and then sort out your bath.' Floyd patted Sam on the knee and noticed the way Sam flinched back away from him. 'What you scared of? I'm not going to hurt you. I'd never hurt you.' He squeezed Sam's thigh in his hand. 'Now, come on. The sooner we get this done the sooner we can relax.'

'And wash.' Sam muttered. 'You have no idea how bad this makes me feel being like this. It's like hell…' Sam trailed off realising what he'd said and gave a small shrug.

With two of them to drag things off work progressed much quicker. It was only another hour or so before they had the bulk of the building dragged out of the way. The top of the pump stood there shiny and wonderful, the pile of things on the back of Spencer's legs had been removed and Floyd had very carefully run his fingers over Spencer's lower back and legs. There didn't seem to be any blood, but Spencer's cords covered up bruising which was sure to be there. The only thing now holding Spencer in place was a long length which was probably once a rafter laying over his shoulders. Floyd took another break, gave Spencer some water to drink and sat looking at his dirty sweaty face. There was a scab on his cheek and a little run of blood travelling back into his hair. Floyd did wonder if Spencer would object to being taken there now.

'Spence?'

'No.' Spencer told him.

'No what? You don't know what the question is yet… and why do you think I'd take notice of you saying _no_ anyway?'

Spencer almost smiled, but not quite. 'I know you well enough to know what the question was going to be and the fact that you actually thought to ask if you could do that to me whilst I'm laying here with part of a wall crushing my back gives me the right to say _no_.'

Floyd lit up a smoke and nodded. 'So what you're saying is that if I didn't ask and fucked you anyway and you said _no_ then it doesn't count?'

Spencer took the smoke from between Floyd's fingers with his free hand. 'When has saying _no_ under those circumstances ever made a difference?'

Floyd took the smoke back again, took a drag then placed it back between Spencer's lips. 'You look so fucking sexy laying there all bloody and mashed. You have no idea what it's doing to me.'

'I have a very good idea. Can you get the rest of this off me?'

'One last try… Spencer?'

'And it's still a resounding _no_. Get me out of here… please.'

It was with a heavy heart that Floyd got up and gestured for Sam to join him again. Floyd's plan was for him to lift the bit of wall and Sam to drag Spencer out. Sam stood with arms tight around his chest and a slight pout. 'Then we find the water pump?' He got a nod from Floyd and so with a sigh he took his eyes off the tiny bit of the pump he could see and crouched down in front of Spencer. 'Gimme ya hand. When you feel that wall being lifted squeeze my hand real tight and I'll pull. When you can, get your other hand out.'

Spencer didn't like this. Didn't like it one tiny bit. He could imagine Sam dragging him over sharp bits of things and tearing him open and not even bothering to stop. He would more likely choose the most uncomfortable path to drag him.

Floyd found the best place to get a grip. It wouldn't be possible to remove it, but he could lift it a bit and maybe not pop his intestines out of his arse with the effort. He told Sam that he was lifting on the count of three.

'One, two, three…'

Spencer's hand tightened on Sam's as Spencer felt the pressure finally lifting off his upper back and shoulders. Sam had suggested that they pull Spencer out in the other direction, feet first. 'Not so much to move that way.'

Floyd had punched Sam in the ear and told him that under no circumstance was he going to trust Sam to pull Spencer's head under that slab of stone. 'Rather his spine was broken than his head squashed.'

Such comforting words from Floyd, but maybe he meant well. He just had a very poor bedside manner. He'd have to remind Floyd never to become a doctor. The relief though when finally Sam let go of Spencer's hand and the crash of the rock fell behind Spencer was sublime. He would have jumped up and cried and pounded his fists on his chest with joy, but didn't. Couldn't. He just lay there grinning. 'Thank you, Sam.' Spencer put his hand out and touched Sam on the ankle.

It was as much as Sam could do not to turn and kick Spencer in the head and now Floyd was walking over looking all smug and picking up a bottle of water. Floyd sat with his legs crossed and pulled Spencer onto his lap and let him drink. Floyd had his boys back together again. The world or rather _hell_ was once again a perfect place.

'So… you gonna put him down now and help?'

Floyd ignored Sam. He ran fingers over Spencer's dirty face. 'Thank you, Babes. Thank you for rescuing my sword. You should have been born an angel.'

Spencer drank back some water and spat some out as he rinsed out dust and sand. 'I was born a fool.' Spencer told Floyd. 'I'm just glad we are all together again. I hope it lasts more than one night this time.'

'Are – you – gonna – help!' Sam's voice was getting more demanding.

'No, Sam.' Floyd told him before things started to get thrown at him. 'I'm not going to help you. You are going to sit down and stop making such a fucking fuss. None of this shit would have happened if you'd not run off alone. Now you suffer the consequences.'

'You fucking said you'd get the pump working! You said you'd wash me and perform sexual favours.'

'Well yeah, might have, but I lied. You're going to have to stay smelling like that for now.'

Sam sat down and rubbed his sore eyes with his fingertips. 'I'll start on Ambrose then.'

But Floyd's mind had drifted again. He was stroking Spencer and looking at those big hazel eyes and that tongue which constantly licked his lips. He was looking at the little mole he had just above one eyebrow and the way his hair curled, very much like Adam's had, just enough to wind your fingers through.

'I'm going to eat Ambrose.' Sam insisted, but Floyd was running his thumb along the curve of Spencer's nose and Spencer was kissing Floyd's sore fingers better for him. 'You two are sick! You're gross! You're just horrible. No one wants to see you pawing each other like that.' But Sam didn't move to start butchering Ambrose. Actually Sam moved in a bit closer. 'You're like a couple of teenaged girls or like a couple of little faggy fuckers.' Still nothing from Floyd. 'I bet I can suck your fingers better than Spencer can.' Floyd lifted a hand towards Sam. 'They've got Spencer's lick all over them now. Fucking gross pig.' But he moved in even closer and took Floyd's hand and ran a tongue over the back of it. 'I just wanted a bath. I just… I just wanted to be clean.'

'Well come closer and get real dirty with us first. Have something worth washing off.' Floyd smirked at Sam who was slipping Floyd's fingers into his mouth and nibbling gently around the nails. 'I'll take all your aches and pains away with my magic semen.'

'You're an animal.' Sam mumbled around the fingers stuffed into his mouth.

'It's just like _laying on hands_ but a lot more fun.' Floyd now gave Sam a genuine smile. Creepy… very creepy smile.

When you take into consideration that Spencer had spent the day stuck under a pile of stone, that Floyd had spent the day beating up on Sam, raping, almost dying and then doing his duty to make his boys feel good and when you consider that Sam was sulking for at least the first five minutes, the three of them actually enjoyed themselves. Well two of them did anyway, Spencer wasn't so sure about it. Though he'd had three way loving before, he still had the ugly idea that Sam was a kid and that was a bit off putting. Sam also wasn't so sure. He didn't mind watching Floyd and Spencer doing stuff because it was a good opportunity to bitch and moan… and Sam's arse was still sore and he was very smelling and a bit slimy now that sweat had joined all the other thing stuck to him… Floyd loved every prod and probe. He really could think of nothing better than being made happy by his boys and they were such loyal boys and such loving boys… and such experienced sluts… It amused Floyd that Sam would do the sluttiest thing he could think of, only to then get some extra special loving care from Spencer, which would then force Sam to do something even better… maybe to Spencer and not to him, but did that matter? They rolled around and knelt and lay and bucked and wriggled and howled and laughed and Floyd (just to make things more interesting when Sam seemed to be getting tired) called out Adam's name. Spencer didn't even notice, but the fingernails digging into Floyd's buttocks let him know that Sam had.

It was a dirty, messy, smelly, sweaty love session and when over and they were all three laying on their backs having a post coital smoke, Floyd didn't think he'd ever been happier or if things could have been more perfect.

Then Sam had to mouth off. Sam always had to mouth off. He could just leave things and be happy. 'I'm a better fuck than Spencer and so much better than Adam.'

'Adam was good. You weren't there. You only met him once, don't disrespect the kid. A nice tight little virgin.' Floyd sighed happily at the memory.

'You are such a nasty shit sometimes.' Sam moved away from Floyd. 'I'm going to eat some of Ambrose and then I'm going to try to get the water pump working. You just lay there with Spencer and think of Adam's tight arse. I'm sure Spencer will appreciate that.' Sam stood up, wobbled and then walked over to his bag, pulled out and knife and started to butcher Ambrose.

It wasn't something Spencer wanted any part of. Just hearing the noises Sam was making was turning his stomach. He'd had discussions with Floyd in the past about his eating habits. Illegal eating habits. Floyd always said that it wasn't how it looked. He wasn't actually human. It was no different from a dog eating a cat. It was how Floyd tried to reason what he did. Spencer didn't like it. Spencer hated it! But he'd never stop Floyd from following what he had to do.

Or was that just another excuse. Something to cover up the fact that he was totally and hopelessly in love with a murdering, cannibalistic, necrophile, who seemed to have a lust for young boys.

Floyd had moved over to the rubble again. He'd told Sam he'd get the water working and if he wasn't careful and if he kept letting Sam down he was going to lose the boy to someone else. He thought it unlikely, but it was very possible… Spencer watched Floyd pulling away the rocks for a while then went to join him. He ached, was sore and tired, but he needed questions answered. He helped Floyd move something out of the way then place a hand on Floyd's elbow. 'Tell me about Adam.'

Floyd frowned, brushed Spencer's hand away and shook his head. 'Nothing much to say really.'

'Then it wont take long.'

Floyd sat down and pulled out his hip flask, took a swig and handed it to Spencer. 'He was a nice boy who I took on a train ride. Funnily enough I was looking for Sam. He'd been sold by flesh traders and was on his way to a likely death. At least that's what I thought at first. As it turned out the person he'd been sold to was in fact my good old self. Never mind. Adam…

'You know if that guy hadn't insisted on playing a fucking harmonica and if that other bloke hadn't sung like he had been pissing glass then I'd not have done it. Adam was the only survivor, apart from myself. I was still in blood lust. I needed more. I took it. I then let Adam off at the next stop. That's about all.'

'Why did he kill Sam then? Something must have happened to make him do that.'

'Likely, but I dunno. You'll have to ask Sam. I wasn't there. I was… well… with The Old Woman, by then.'

'Dead.'

'Out of action. Yeah.'

'You loved the lad?' Spencer almost whispered his question.

'Infatuated. Look we have the pump almost out of the junk. Let's see if it does anything.'

It took half an hour of pumping the thing until a small trickle of water eventually appeared. Spencer wanted to just get Floyd to keep pumping and put his head under the lovely cool water, but he just wet his wrists and then turned to see what Sam was up to. He wished he'd not. It wasn't a memory Spencer wanted etched there forever, but he had a feeling it would be. It reminded Spencer of documentaries he'd seen of animals in Africa tearing into their catch. Sam had forgone the knife and was just head down eating directly off what was left of Ambrose.

Floyd saw Spencer turn to look and when he too saw what Sam was doing he placed a pacifying hand on Spencer's arm. 'Deal with it. You know what he's like.'

'But…'

'Deal with it. Wash your hair, keep pumping or something. I'll go get Sam.' Floyd could feel his mouth filling with drool at the sight of the food laying about a hundred foot away from them. There were bits splattered everywhere. Ribs, bits of yellow lumpy fat, stringy bits of ligament and chunks of skin… There was a twisted pile of ropy intestines thrown over where Ambrose once had a head.

Sam looked up and saw Floyd looking. He licked his lips and smiled. 'Tasty.' He breathed the word out. 'Orgasmic.' Sam added.

'Time for a bath.' Floyd smiled back. 'You are one hell of a messy eater.'

'None of his insides were where they should have been. Man was a walking freak. I got the heart though.'

Floyd nodded slowly. 'Wash.' He pointed at the pump which Spencer did now have his head under, one hand working the cranking handle.

They washed each other. Floyd washed Sam, Sam washed Floyd and then Floyd and Sam washed Spencer. Protests ignored and trousers down before he could say that he'd sooner wash in private. Though mouths stayed shut and butts remained mostly untouched (the occasional finger found its way somewhere interesting – at least Floyd found it interesting) it was still very oddly sexual. Sam didn't complain. Spencer didn't want to upset things now that they'd calmed down. Floyd loved every minute of it. His fucks were finally getting along and not trying to kill each other. The matter of Adam had for now at least been laid to rest and they had fresh food.

'I'm not eating it.'

'I cant cook it babes. There's nothing here to cook on.'

'It's not because it's raw. It's because it came from a being who could walk on two legs and talk in a language I could understand.'

Sam's mouth went tight. He hated these moral high grounds which Spencer took sometimes. 'He would have killed you.'

'He didn't. He let me go.' Spencer reminded him. 'But that's not the point. I have rations I can eat. I wouldn't appreciate the food you're offering, and as you made the kill and as it was to save Floyd… then you two share.' He attempted to make it look like he was being generous.

So Spencer nibbled on dry rations and tried to put out of his mind all those odd meals Floyd had cooked up for him, all those strange packs of meat he'd find in the kitchen, those grey, salty, lumpy soups Floyd would provide when he was feeling rough… he knew what he'd been eating. He could try to deny that all he wanted, but he knew. It had been him who had washed the blood off Floyd's clothes, who had cleaned up mess after mess and then lied to the police and to Hotchner even. Spencer knew what Floyd did when he made those dolls. He knew what skin Floyd used to make his little tobacco pouches and his belts and… Again Spencer tried to put it all out of his mind. If he thought about it too much he thought he'd go insane. Unless that had already happened. How could someone who had been hanging around with Floyd for half of his life stay sane? Not possible.

Floyd and Sam chatted happily to each other. Sam ignored Spencer because he had nothing apart from a dick and an arse in common with him, and Floyd thought Spencer looked like he needed some time to recover. But they weren't even out of the clearing area yet. They'd not started their real fight. Floyd had a deep feeling of doom. They weren't going to make it. They'd never get there. At least not all three of them. One of the three was going to be dead, very dead, long before the battle had even started.

'So…' Sam suddenly spoke up and looked over at Spencer. '… I need to say ta for getting me out of that place. Your words seemed to have worked.'

Spencer looked over at Sam who was squeaky clean and grinning. 'You are welcome, Sam.'

'Cos really you need to do that more often. We're a team. We need to fight shoulder to shoulder. Back to back… arse to arse and cock against stomach, cos that way we will be safer, you know?'

Spencer thought he understood the gist of what Sam was saying. 'It boils down to trust.' Spencer told him. 'You were foolish to run off alone. Maybe we have both learnt a lesson from this.'

Sam picked up a bit of blobby red stuff and stuffed it in his mouth. He gave Spencer a broad bloody grin.

o-o-o

Tragedy can draw people together. They give each other shoulder's to lean on. Screwing each other can have a similar effect. The bonding which had begun that day in a bunker under the desert just outside Vegas seemed to have finally completed. The days following the incident with the pump seemed so relaxed it was almost as though they were on one of Floyd's ideas of a vacation. Sometimes Floyd held Spencer's hand as they walked, sometimes it was Sam's. A few times Spencer took Sam's hand and it wasn't turned down. Spencer ignored the itch in the back of his head that it felt like Sam was the kid brother and he was walking him to school. You don't walk a bro to school and then… well you don't have sexual contact with a brother and so Spencer tried to push that feeling back. The trouble as Spencer could see it, was that he'd always been with older men… not much older, but a bit. They'd been there as a barrier; to protect. The bond he was forming with Sam was totally different. It seemed to be Sam who needed protecting.

So they walked now, Spencer with an arm over Sam's shoulder and Sam an arm around Spencer's waist and a thumb hooked in the band of Spencer's cords. 'I went there to kill him.' Sam piped up as they stood watching Floyd jump up and down on some silvery coloured beetles.

'Ambrose?' Spencer tightened his hold on Sam. A sympathy hug if you will.

'Adam. Floyd couldn't see past him. He was dying cos that's all he could think of… Adam's damned shitty hair which smelled of horses. He couldn't stop thinking about him, so to try to save Floyd I went to where Adam lived and I was prepared to kill him and his fucking arsehole family. Yeah, Floyd paid him off in blood money, but the fucker took it and spent it without any guilt. I was going to slit the shit's throat. I was going to urinate on his pretty damned sodding hair. But when I saw how pathetic he was and how broken he already was – no point in killing him. Getting to know Floyd the way he had is like a cancer. Eats away at you on the inside and eventually you become a monster like Floyd, or you top yourself… or in your case, both. I told him that I hated him. I told him that Floyd was mine and would never be his. I told him… I said I was going to kill him, but I wasn't. I turned to go back to my horse and the motherfucker shot me in the back with his dad's shotgun. Didn't even know there was one there. Then he walked over and put it to the back of my neck and fired the other barrel. Nearly took my head off. Killed me there in the sand. The fucker. So I don't have much love for him. I hate him from the top of my head to the tip of my sore toes. I can forgive people for doing shit, but not that.'

Spencer didn't know if he needed to ask more questions or if it was better to just stay silent, and as there seemed to be nothing to ask he did the latter.

'Bern though… yeah I admit I killed him. He deserved it. He really did. He was a nasty piece of work. A devious shit who had been following us. He wanted Floyd. He rubbed his cock against him and Floyd turned him down, but he wanted him. I could smell it on Bern and I knew that Floyd had said he'd protect him! So I had to get sneaky… so yes, I slit his throat when he was checking for traps and I don't regret it. He was a cannibal. He'd been eating his neighbours. Him and his sister lured us to their house and were going to eat us too. He needed to die.'

'You mix with nice people. You should hang out with my type more often.'

Sam snorted a laugh. 'Spencer, do you think we are going to survive? I mean right to the end. Are we going to get our dreams and our wishes?'

Spencer didn't think so. He didn't even think that there were dreams and wishes to be handed out. He looked over at Floyd who was now hopping around and scratching at the leg he wasn't standing on, and muttering under his breath. A bug had managed to get up the leg of his jeans. It was biting but causing no real damage, but it gave Spencer and Sam something to smile about.

'You think we're going to die.' Sam now said.

Spencer had hoped that Sam had been distracted by Floyd's dancing around and swearing. 'I don't know. I cant answer that. We've hardly seen anything yet and we've nearly died a few times already. It's not a good start. But I think it's shown us that we need to trust each other. We have to be able to do what you did with Adam and put our backs to each other and _know_ that we wont get a bullet in the back. Part of this battle will be won then. I don't know what's going to happen, Sam and I don't know if we will survive, but I know that if I can trust you to cover my back and you can trust me and of course we both trust Floyd, we have at least a chance.'

'He's got us right where he wants us. He's a fucker is that Floyd.'

'Yes, he's got us where he wants us.'

'I fought it, but it's not so bad really. Wanna give me a blow while we wait for Floyd?' Sam asked.

'Probably would be better if we offered to help him.'

So many sweet and tender moments. Some worthy to be called _chocolate box moments_. There was Spencer slowly combing back Sam's hair and tying it back firmly for him. There was the time Spencer slipped and banged his elbow on the rocky floor and Sam gave it a long lick and a kiss better. There was that night when Spencer had fallen asleep, Sam curled up with him and dry humped him whilst Floyd sat scowling and smoking. There was the time that Sam, again curled up behind Spencer, slipped his hands down the front of Spencer's cords and gave him a wet dream.

There was the time that Sam told Spencer a really good joke and whilst they stood laughing, Sam ran his hands over Spencer's groin.

There was the time that Sam started to undo Spencer's shirt...

And Floyd ripped him back out of the way and threw him to the side.

'Fucking stop it! You pair of dirty sluts!'

Sam hunched over in a crouch and wrapped his arms around his shins. 'I was just getting friendly.'

'Floyd it was nothing, really.'

'Nothing? _Nothing_? He's been wanking you off in your sleep! He's been touching and feeling you up every fucking moment he gets! I understand that I wanted you two to get along, but for the love of virgins everywhere… there is a sodding limit to what I'm going to allow! Keep your hands to yourself Sam, and Spencer? Well… Get on your knees.'

Spencer raised an eyebrow. 'You exaggerate. Sam has done nothing of the sort. I would know if he…'

'Well obviously you didn't! There's bonding and there's fucking with my head. Sam, stop your game. Spencer… wake up and smell the fucking coffee will you! Why do you think you've been having wet dreams?'

Spencer went very pale… two bright red spots lit up the side of his face. He stuffed his hands into his pockets… 'I had a couple of – dreams. It was a dream.'

'It was Sam! He was wanking you off in your sleep and pleasuring himself by dry humping you. How can you _not_ know that?'

Spencer sat on a nearby handy rock and put his hand out for a cheroot. It was becoming quite a habit. 'I trust that Sam wouldn't do such a thing. He'd not abuse my trust in that way. You're imagining it. Give me a smoke!' The last bit was snapped out in anger at Floyd.

'Sam… Tell Spencer what you've been doing.'

Sam cocked his head slightly to the side. 'I aint done nothing.'

Floyd pressed the heel of his hands against his eyes for a while and then threw a cheroot in Spencer's direction. 'This is what is going to happen. You two are going to listen to me and you are going to do what I tell you. I'm going to have to be as childish as you are, Sam and pull rank. I'm the oldest. You will do what I tell you to do. Understand? Good! Sam, when you snuggle up with Spencer during sleep time you will _keep your hand off his prick_.'

'But he loves it!' Sam wailed.

'Oh dear god…' Spencer moaned and sucked poison down into his lungs. 'Maybe it's best we don't snuggle?' He suggested.

'But I cant sleep if I'm alone. I need something to hold or something holding me.'

'Then sleep with me.' Floyd ordered. 'I'll not have these games carrying on under my nose. You're meant to cleave to me! What's wrong with that? Where's all the fucking cleaving gone? When did I last fuck either of you?'

'With me around, not even fucking him, but just touching him where I know he likes it best, just that… it's all he needs. He's the cheapest tart I've ever come across. What it boils down to Floyd is that Spencer would rather be wanked off by me in his sleep than be fucked by you.'


	39. Chapter 39

39

There was a small scuttling sound coming from behind Floyd where a couple of beetles had evaded his stomping. If there had been crickets they would have started chirping around about now. Spencer clenched his teeth in preparation of the blood bath which he was sure was about to follow Sam's comment. Floyd blinked at Sam and then pinched two fingers at the bridge of his nose. A sign that a nose bleed was threatening. Sam stood with fists on hips and a _Come on then hit me!_ look on his face. No one spoke. Spencer didn't think anyone even breathed for a few minutes.

Spencer could see Floyd's throat move as he swallowed… swallowed back whatever words where there in his mouth ready to be spat out at Sam and probably at Spencer too. Floyd pulled a cheroot from his pocket and tossed it over to Sam, another was handed to Spencer, a third he slipped between his own lips. Sam placed his in the corner of his mouth and bit down on the end. Spencer held his between thumb and finger and rolled it around for a while. Still no one spoke. Spencer looked at Sam, looked at Floyd and finally said something.

'I apologise if I have acted in a way that you find offensive, but you need to understand that between the three of us the sexual tension is reaching a point where we are either going to have to have a group hug or kill each other. I'd opt for the former.'

Floyd flicked the lighter and made the end of his cheroot glow deep red. He threw a small book of matches over to Sam. He offered no light for Spencer. 'Granted, this situation isn't the best.' Floyd sucked on the brown cheroot and breathed the smoke out of his nostrils. 'However I'm doing my damned best to get us through it. If the pair of you don't stop fucking with my head I'm not going to be able to do what needs to be done. We're meant to be partners. We're meant to be looking out for each other, not playing stupid games.' He glanced at Spencer and pointed to the floor in front of his own feet. 'I told you to get on your knees.'

Spencer sighed, stood from the rock he'd been resting on, walked to Floyd and with a small nod did as he'd been told. He then placed his hands on the ground in front of him and looked at down at Floyd's booted feet.

'Obedience isn't that hard is it? It's there for a reason. I tell you to do something you fucking well do it. Is that understood by the pair of you? You're like a couple of kids! I shouldn't have to still use this as an example. Not every time I ask you to do something or rather tell you to do something is for a sexual favour. Sometimes it just might be to save your life. Spencer you stay there. Don't you fucking move an inch. I promise you that will be a life saving thing to do. Move and I'm gonna get ballistic on your arse… and that's not meant to make you grin so take that look off your damned face.' The smile which _had_ crept over Spencer's face disappeared; even though Floyd couldn't see Spencer's expression, he knew it was there.

'Sam… on your knees.'

The look on Sam's face wasn't a grin. It was a look of distaste. 'And if I don't?'

'If you don't this partnership ends here. Now. If you cant obey then I don't want you around me. Get on your knees.'

Sam did much the same as Spencer did. He slipped down to his knees with his hands on the floor in front of him and his head down. Both of Floyd's boys now in a servile and submissive position. It was how he liked it.

'Remember next time I tell you to stop fucking around that there might be a good reason for it. I've trained you, Sam to survive and to kill. You are my main weapon, but if I cant trust that weapon to fire when it's needed there's no point in having it around. Understood?'

'I understand. I don't like it, but I understand.'

Floyd walked back to Spencer and stood in front of him again. 'I want your free time to be taken up with study. You did good freeing Sam from Ambrose, but it took too long. I nearly died because you don't have obedience or faith. You need to pull yourself together because you my Babes are going to the death of us if you don't. We need circles of protection. We need protective wards said over us. You need to check up on our wounds and sort out your fucking medical bag. For now though…' Floyd looked back to where he'd been crushing bugs. '…for now you two can stay where you are and think about what I just said. If you want to carry on with me then you will listen; if you want to go your own way… well… do so, but don't expect me to come running when I hear you screaming.'

'Understood.' Sam muttered. 'And I'm sorry. I forgot the gravity of the situation and allowed my inner lust and greed to take a hold of me. It wont happen again – unless you ask it to.'

Spencer understood too. He understood that Floyd had let Sam off his leash once again and Sam had gone running off to play rather than sit and heel, which is what Floyd wanted.

'Spencer?' Floyd spoke sharply. 'I need a response from you.'

Spencer slowly shook his head. 'I understand what you are saying, but when you push two people together, don't be too surprised when your pushing actually works.'

'You arguing with me?' The boots took a step closer to Spencer's fingers on the floor.

'I'm just saying that you wanted me and Sam to get on…'

'What I wanted was for Sam not to slit your throat in the night.'

'I understand. You're jealous and that's fine. I will be more aware, but I've come to get to know Sam a bit now and most of the time all the lad needs is a kind word or a bit of comfort. He's scared.'

'He's a blood thirsty, cold blooded murdering little shit, is what he is. Wise to remember that.'

'He learnt his lessons well. You forget, Floyd, that I am rather drawn to blood thirsty, murdering shits.'

'Mind your fucking language when you talk to me!' Again the booted feet… an inch closer. 'I'd wash your dirty mouth out with soap if I had any… after I'd washed Sam's arse with it. Stay where you are. Gonna go kill little bugs, then I'll be back. Listen… listen out for things.'

Floyd stamped down on more little beetle things. He wished it was Sam's head he was mashing. He wished it was Spencer he was trampling on, but maybe the trampling had been done with the words. His boys were still kneeling with their eyes looking at the floor. At least they'd learned that much. They'd realised who was in control of this fuck up. He'd wanted to tear Sam's tongue from his mouth and knock his teeth out, but that would have delayed them further and put Spencer in a sulk, so he'd taken a slightly different route and he hoped it was going to work. Yes, he wanted the boys to get along. Yes he wanted them both touching him at the same time, but he was beginning to have second thoughts about Spencer and Sam having a union of their own.

He felt another thing crack and pop under his boot heel. Floyd was sure that both of them were loyal to him. He knew that Spencer would die protecting him… he thought he'd die protecting Sam too. He wasn't so sure that Sam would go that far. Sam would attempt to slide away and hide if the piles of shit he was facing got too big. He'd possibly even made a deal of his own. What Floyd wasn't sure about was whether Sam would go as far as turning his coat and fighting for the wrong side.

Floyd turned and looked at his bowing scraping dogs. He wanted to feel happy that they were doing as they were told, but that gnawing knowledge that they were actually in hell and he was still having to discipline Sam was bothering him. Floyd walked to his backpack, had a quick search and came up with what he wanted.

Sam saw Floyd's feet under his nose. He felt a hand on the back of his neck. Feeling Floyd's hand touching him made heat flood to his special place between his legs. He felt his body reacting to that touch as though a drug had just been pumped into his system. He bit down on his bottom lip in frustration. He couldn't move. He couldn't even put a hand on his own cock and give himself some pleasure, so he stayed there with his eyes beginning to water and his nose beginning to run… The pleasure of Floyd's hands on his neck and touching his hair didn't last. He felt something encircle his neck and then a _click_ of something being locked into place.

'Floyd…' Sam muttered.

'Shut up. I didn't tell you you could talk.'

'I don't…'

Sam was yanked forwards by the collar he had around his neck. 'I told you to be quiet. Why do you find lessons so hard to learn? What's _wrong_ with you? Why cant you just do what you're told and I'd not have to resort to these basic methods.'

There was a hiss of breath drawn over Sam's teeth, but he said nothing. Floyd had him back on a leash, but this time it was a physical one and not an emotional one. He hated it. He hated being treated like this. He didn't feel that he deserved this treatment. He'd only been doing what he found so natural. He'd only been doing what Floyd wanted, and now this shit?

'I cant fire my bow if I've got this attached to me.' Sam thought that was very reasonable.

'Nor can you fire a bow if your hands are down the front of Spencer's pants… nor can you if both of your fucking arms are broken. Shut your mouth, get to your feet and don't you fucking dare look at me. Keep those whores eyes on the fucking floor. If I see you looking at something other than the floor, or your own nose, I'm going to take that annoying fucking eye right out of your stupid head. Stand!'

Slowly Sam got to his feet. He did as he was told and kept his eyes down. He wanted to issue false apologies, but Floyd would have known and Floyd would have slapped him around for it and so he stayed silent.

Floyd now walked back to Spencer. 'Get up onto your feet and listen to what I am going to tell you.' In silence Spencer got to his feet. He wanted to turn and see what Floyd had done to Sam, but he could hear Sam's heavy breaths – he was still alive… he could check up on him later.

'If Sam touches you I will whip his back until it bleeds. If you touch Sam I will whip Sam's back until it bleeds. I promise. I promise that I wont kill him but I will put him in a lot of pain. You will not be permitted to comfort him. You understand? Please tell me you understand.'

'I understand that you are a jealous and vindictive… prig.'

'Well at least I don't have to go explaining that too. We are leaving. Today I think the hall of pillars should be reached, unless by some fluke we've walked a different route and missed them. Do not touch them. Do not look into them. Avoid your reflections. Do not listen to what they offer you, it's a trap. If it was possible to walk through there with our eyes closed, then it would be done. It cant be. If you want to get out the other end alive you'll take my advice, but currently I have been wondering if you take my advice seriously.'

Floyd shrugged on his back pack, told Sam to get his stuff on and ready and they left without another word said between them. Sam walked behind Floyd a length of leather going from the collar around his neck… the other end of it wrapped around Floyd's hand.

They _did_ reach what Floyd called The Hall of Pillars.

They stood side by side, shoulder to shoulder and looked.

'Well the first pillar to offer Floyd a pair of wings and we're fucked.' Sam groaned.

'You, Sammy-boy are fucked anyway. He's sort of right though. You might hear voices coming from within the pillar things. They will offer you something and try to tempt you away. They then suck you in and trap you within the pillar. You'll likely see some with things behind them – sort of like monstrous window displays. Now usually they're feeding off animals. They'll offer them food, or warmth, or just real basic shit like a bath and soap… We though are intelligent enough to ignore those ridiculous promises. They could, as Sam said offer you something which you do really desire. Just ignore it, however tempting it might sound. Don't touch them… try not to look into them. Don't communicate with them. If we are quick and we do what we should we might be out the other end before we need another rest stop.'

'But you wouldn't know. You've never been here before. You're just saying what you've heard others say. How do we know that the voices haven't already gotten to you? How do we know that you're not leading us into a trap and we are going to die.'

Floyd ignored Sam. This was just the sort of thing which would keep delaying them.

The hallway stretched out endlessly in front of them. It was impossible to see if there was an ending as the pillars were scattered around with no sign of order. It was equally not possible to see how far this place carried on to either side of them. Some of the pillars appeared to be made of black stone. Spencer guessed that if the three of them stood around it they'd just about to touch fingers. Some of the pillars seemed to be hollow glass, or mirrored, or filled with a strange coloured light. There were some that looked like giant lava lamps and glowed a threatening orange… others had bubbles which drifted up inside of them.

'It reminds me of a light sensory room, but this would make any person go mad if they were in there for too long.' Spencer commented.

'Just 'ware the voices.' Floyd reminded him. 'You ready Sam?'

'Fuck you and the thing that spawned you.' Sam replied.

And so with that sorted they stepped off the slightly bumpy shiny rock and onto a smooth polished marble floor. For Sam, the voices started up with out hesitation…

_Come to me and have a bath… I will give you comfort… I will let you sleep in my loving arms… I love you! I want you. I trust you. I admire you…. Come to me beautiful one… I will never hurt you. I will give you dope… come pop your veins with me. Snort some good stuff… rest your head on my chest and feel me want you… I can give you a soul… make you real…_

Sam wasn't sure if everyone could hear what was being said, but he thought they probably could. Spencer's voices were different…

_You don't need him! Come to me and I will show you what good life is all about. I will give you anything you want. I will cure that sickness in your mind. I will give your mother back her health… Come to me and I will show you all the wonderful things we can do together…_

Spencer shook his head and frowned. If that was all they had to offer then this was going to be easy…

_I can take you right to the point you need to be. You don't need those dogs to get you there. You can bypass all the tests and…_

'Just ignore them.' Floyd muttered. 'Sam?'

'I'm sorely tempted.' Sam moaned. 'Can you make them shut up? Or can you prove that they cant give what's on offer?'

'I can prove it. I'm ignoring it. That's proof enough. Come boys…' A jerk on Sam's leash, '…we need to move quickly.'

**a/n: Sorry for the short chapter. Had a busy day and evening. xox**


	40. Chapter 40

40

_Red meat and boys… this way…_

The voice in Floyd's head wasn't just a voice he could hear now, it was a constant nagging, scraping at the insides of his brain.

_Submissive loyalty… no more need to drag your companions around with you. Watch your back! Don't let them get behind you. Your dogs will attack first chance they get. I'll offer you a way out of this mess. No more deals. Just let the dogs go and…_

They'd not been walking for long when Floyd dropped Sam's leash and slammed his hands over his ears. It didn't stop the constant promises though. He wanted to break out into a run and just get through this as quickly as possible.

_Good good! Now run! Get away from them…_

Floyd gritted his teeth, crouched down and picked up the end of the leash again. Floyd didn't know, but had he left Sam unsecured for another few seconds the last he would have seen of Sam would have been his back, running across the hall towards something offering him designer clothing. Spencer had the heel of his hands pressed against his ears, but it did nothing. The voices were no longer travelling through the ear, but were being blasted directly into their brains. It meant that they could only hear what was being offered to them selves though.

Sam pulled a bit on the leash… 'Oh my fucking god!' He moaned… 'Please let me just go and look…' The pitiful sound in his voice would maybe have made a lesser man give in to his whining; if only to shut him up. 'Floyd… pleasey please! Just a look… I just want to see it properly.'

'Will looking satisfy you?' Floyd asked in a distant voice.

'Certainly.' Sam grinned and took a step towards where he could see a glimpse of glitter and vinyl.

Floyd wanted to scream at Sam _Liar_! But still with the leash held tightly he turned to face Sam. 'Sam, it's a trick. You know it is. When we get out of here I will buy you everything you want. We'll go on a shopping spree and you can have every pretty, slutty little thing you want, but you'll not get what you want from here.'

Sam was having none of it though. 'But I'm not going to make it out of here. I'm going to die wearing these nasty mank shorts and old sandals. I just want…'

'Cant have.' Floyd told him and then turned to Spencer. 'You OK there? You're looking a bit flushed.'

Spencer pulled a bottle of water out of the bag and had a long drink before answering. 'It's a nice offer they're showing me, but I can resist it. We need to keep moving. This place… well I can resist for now, but I think we should keep going.'

An hour later and Spencer was sitting hugging his shins with his head resting on his knees. The reflection in the pillar behind him showed a library of such vastness that it made Spencer's head hurt just to look at it. It wasn't just the image of the ancient books and the room beyond the pillar which seemed to be the size of a Cathedral with its huge vaulted ceiling and row upon row of book, it was the smell that wafted his way to accompany it. It was also his mother and father standing there arm in arm smiling and beckoning for him to join them. _Don't let us down again, Spencer. Don't be a disappointment to us. Be a real son again. Be family. Real family. Come to us Spencer…_ The voices droned on making Spencer's eyes water with the effort not to turn and just get it over with. He knew it wasn't real, but that wasn't the point. It was something he really would have loved. A real family. A settled life. The most glorious library in existence.

Whilst Spencer sat with his back to his parents who were now begging Spencer to join them, Sam and Floyd were screaming at each other. Sam could see in the reflection of another pillar what seemed to be some sort of cat walk show with himself and Floyd walking hand in hand wearing the most awesome things Sam's mind was able to imagine. 'I don't fucking care anymore!' Sam was howling. 'I want what they're offering and you cant fucking stop me, if that's what I want! Why wont you just look at it and see!'

Floyd jerked on the leash and placed one booted toe over Sam's exposed toes. 'I wont see what you see!' Floyd spat back at him. 'That's a temptation for you not for me! You stupid mother fucker! You cant have what you see!'

'You cant bloody well stop me! Oh my fucking god! Floyd! Please!' Sam dropped to his knees with his hands planted firmly on the floor. 'Let me have this. Let me have those fucking beautiful clothes and I'll crawl on my belly to you forever. Please. Just this once.' He moved his face to the ground and kissed one of Floyd's boots. 'I'll lick them clean… Damn! I'll lick _you_ clean! Just let me have one nice lot of kit… please!'

Floyd looked down at Sam and then over to Spencer who was now looking up at the pair of them and shaking his head. He looked back down at Sam again. 'I cant. It's not real Sam. It's just stuff pulled from your head. If you take something or if you go there you'll be locked in a tube of fucking glass for eternity. You'll die. You'll rot. Your bones will be there slowly disintegrating until there's nothing left. There is not beautiful about what they have to offer.'

'You don't know that! You only know what you've been told! You don't know for sure what will happen.'

Floyd crouched down in front of Sam. 'They're offering me a short cut. A way through to avoid the battle and avoid the shit. They're offering my wings back, Sam. They're saying I'm forgiven… I just have to go with them to prove that I see that… and… well it's not true. If it was, don't you think I'd be gone from here already?'

'It's just…'

'It's nothing. It's nothing, Sam.' Floyd stood and gave Spencer the nod that they needed to carry on.

Sam felt the jerking of the collar… he saw another glimpse of something beautiful… a fabulous pair of silver trousers… Sam let out a gasp as his heart seemed to shudder with love. 'I fucking hate you, Flanders!' He reached up and tugged on the leash… Floyd pulled back and as he did, Sam ran forwards, planted a hand on Floyd's chest and shoved him backwards. 'I fucking hope you burn forever with a poker up your arse!'

Floyd took a step back. Spencer shouted… 'Stop! Look out! Stop!'

There was a strange snapping sucking sound, Sam's leash went loose and Floyd disappeared into the pillar which had been behind him. The voices stopped and then seemed to let out a long sigh of joy; at least to Spencer is sounded like joy.

'What the hell have you done?' Spencer leapt to his feet and grabbed Sam by the back of his hair. 'What did you do that for?' He pulled Sam back out of the way hard enough to pull some of his hair out. Sam let out a scream, whether of dismay, shock or pain… to Spencer it didn't matter.

'It wasn't me! I didn't do anything! He walked backwards into something!'

Spencer let go of Sam's hair and pushed him roughly to the side. 'I saw what you did. Don't even start lying to me Sam. I was watching you.'

'Well he's the fucking one with all the damned answers. He should have known what I was going to do!'

Reid thought about picking up the end of the leash and holding onto Sam, but really Spencer didn't care if Sam ran off to get himself a new set of ridiculously tarty set of clothing; all Spencer needed to know now was where Floyd was and how to get him back with them again. He walked slowly to where Floyd had seemed to have been sucked into. It was a plain glass tube with feathers floating around inside it. Floyd stood central with an almost pissed off look on his face and two fists full of white feathers. Spencer wanted to reach out and tap on the glass but thought that he'd just end up being sucked in there with Floyd… which was a pun Spencer didn't mean to think, but it made him almost smile. Sam was standing next to him with his arms wrapped around his chest and fingers running over the knobbles he'd grown on his ribs. Neither of them spoke. Spencer stayed silent because he was so fuming with rage at Sam that the only words he could think of to say were ones which he thought were un-necessary to use in everyday language to express annoyance and frustration. 'Son of a bitch.' He finally muttered. 'Sam don't touch a thing.'

'Oh… he looks like an angel. He's so beautiful.' A small tear ran down Sam's face. 'I could sit here all day and just look at him. I never really saw that inner beauty before. Did you Spencer?'

Spencer looked at the tube with Floyd standing in it and he smiled and nodded. 'Actually, yes. I knew it was there. I see it sometimes. It's a bit painful to see it all so exposed though.'

'He looks so happy! They're going to give him his wings back. I can hear angels singing in my heart. I can feel the love! He wants me to go to him…'

'He wants you to sit there and keep looking at him. I'm going to get him out.'

Spencer didn't know if it was possible, but he was going to give it everything he had to try. Floyd didn't seem to be aware of where he was or what was going on. He was just standing staring out at nothing; the annoyed look had drifted away and now he stood with a vacant expression but somehow a look of wonder was there too… He was clean… His hair was trimmed to chin level with a bit flopping over his face. He had on clothes Spencer had never seen him wearing before. A pair of low cut leather motor cycle trousers and heavy black boots. He had on a neat white shirt with what seemed to be a small frill down the front and over the top a tight fitted red leather jacket. Spencer had never seen him look quite like that before. He thought it was the frills on the shirt which really looked so strange. Floyd wasn't into fancy stuff like that. It was maybe more how Sam would want Floyd to look.

'I think if I keep looking at him that I'm going to come in my shorts. I'm going to jerk off, so if you don't like it, don't look.' Sam groaned happily.

Spencer was pulling things out of his bag though and fiddling with the small pouches on his belt. As long as Sam stayed where he was and didn't go running off to get a pair of silver pants he didn't mind what he did. Firstly Spencer tipped some stuff into an empty bag and shook it all together. There was quite a lot of the stuff he had mixed up, but most of it was low grade salt. The type you would put on your driveway when it turned into a sheet of ice over night. He then walked around the tube muttering words under his breath and throwing small handfuls of the mix at the glass. He could feel each time he did it, a pull… a horrible dragging sensation which started in his head and travelled down to his stomach where just about where his liver was it began to try to drag him forwards. Spencer even looked down to see if there was something physical there pulling at him. He brushed his hands over his stomach and carried on. There were still no voices, but like Sam had said there seemed to be a singing going on either somewhere a long way off, or right there in his head.

And a chorus of angels sung… _Hallelujah and blessings to you, who have recovered our lost one! Come and join us! Hold hands and be one with us and…_

'It's so beautiful… everything is so wonderful and perfect…' Sam was muttering.

Spencer carried on throwing his magical dust and salt. Once he'd walked around the tube three times in each direction he began one more walk around pouring out what was left into a circle, almost but not quite touching the tube. 'Sam.' Spencer hunkered down next to Sam and with a hand on each of Sam's cheeks pulled his face around to look at him. 'It's not real. Why would angels come to save you in hell? It's a trick. Please try to understand that. What you can see there and what I can see there is very unlikely what Floyd is experiencing. Don't let it fool you.'

'Oh but if you could hear the angels…'

'I can hear the singing. It's not angels. Now sit and look, but don't get any closer.'

'Yeah… no closer. Got you. Understand. I'm gonna take my shorts off though. I need my whole nakedness to be able to bathe in the glorious light which is going to take me to…' He paused, opened his mouth and began to join in with the tune the angels were singing. 'Oh take me euphoric beatitude and bring me to arcadia… to live forever in peace and… and… oh my fucking god!...' and again his words drifted and turned into a whining moan.

Spencer kept Sam out of his sight for a while. He'd glanced around once and seen Sam writhing naked on the floor touching himself and… and that was plenty for Spencer to witness for one day. Sam was like a cat in heat. Spencer was sure it wasn't something he could do anything about, it was this damned place.

'AAhhhh… my god I'm going to die' Sam wailed and Spencer ignored him.

Reid tried to block Sam's cries of… lust and just look at Floyd who seemed to be drooling there behind the glass wall. Spencer did wonder for just a few seconds if Floyd was looking at Sam and then put that out of his mind. He sat in a place where there was no reflection of Sam wriggling on the floor and all he could see was Floyd and he carried on with his words which were demanding that whoever had taken Floyd release him back to the people who love him. He demanded that love could overcome anything and everything… it wasn't the words themselves which held the power behind what Spencer was doing, but more that it was the feeling they conveyed. Love could conquer all! That was the idea of it anyway. The more Spencer spoke and the louder he spoke the more the feathers inside of the tube blew around. Floyd had dropped the ones he'd been holding and was now standing with his hands out in front of him as though asking for someone to join him. His hair was flying around his head and the line of drool coming from his mouth now seemed to be bubbly and pink as it ran sideways on his face and across to his left ear. It also looked as though Floyd's lips were turning blue, but it might have been the light. Spencer hoped it was the light.

'Fuck me!' Sam howled and landed on Spencer's lap. 'Please for the gods stuff my arse before I die!'

Spencer attempted to move Sam out of the way, being careful what part of him he touched. Accidental groping at this stage would have been a bad idea. 'Sam… get off… amuse yourself… I need to help Floyd.'

'What about me! I need help too… seriously. Either fuck me or let me go in there with him. I don't care if I die! I will die wearing lovely clothes with Floyd up me. What more can someone want?'

Spencer gripped Sam by the shoulders and shook him. 'Floyd is going to die if you don't get off me now. There'll be nothing in that thing but a corpse. Now move away from me and don't touch that tube.'

'Spencer! Please… just…'

And Reid thumped Sam. He punched him in the mouth in a furious attempt to keep him quiet. Sam barked a howl of protest and pain and slipped back away from Spencer. 'I hate you!' He wailed. 'What gives you the right to tell me what to do? What gives you the fucking right? You're nothing! You're just a human mother fucking fag who likes to be slapped around by Floyd. You're nothing! You're fucking pathetic!'

Ignoring Sam before worked, at least for a while, and so he attempted the same tactics again. Blocking Sam's moaning out though was more difficult than blocking the voices. What Sam wanted… Spencer was actually able to give… but he needed… he had to get Floyd out; even if he took too long and Floyd was dead, he still had to get him out of there.

Sam didn't know what to do with himself. He tried the good old hand job and not no satisfaction from it. He tried touching other places and it was no more satisfying than pruning a tree. As Spencer droned on saying useless shit, Sam rummaged through the bags and came up with a narrow necked bottle. Most of the water had already gone, so he drank what was left of it and used that. It hurt. It hurt a lot… and he thought he'd got it stuck a few times, but if Spencer wasn't going to relieve the need then he was going to have to do it himself.

Floyd could feel the feathers flying around his head. He could even smell the leather of his clothing. He couldn't breathe though. He couldn't do much more than move his fingers, which had taken a great deal of effort. He could see what Sam was doing but it had no effect on him at all except for wondering if Sam was enjoying making lustful dirty love to a water bottle. A few times he'd watched Spencer doing something. He didn't know what it was though. Throwing dirt around by the looks of it… Floyd tried again to take a breath, but there just seemed to be no air in the tube for him to breathe in. It was empty. As empty as the promises of wings he'd been given. Floyd wondered as he stood there looking oh so fine, if things would have been different if he'd walked in here willingly. He doubted it though. Hadn't he warned his boys not to touch the tubes? A bit of hair was stuck to the corner of his eye. Floyd tried to lift a hand and wipe it out of the way, but his hands stayed at his sides, and now he realised that his hands had gone back into fists again.

Once more Spencer drifted across his vision. He looked like he was talking, praying… doing some words on the damned tube! _Go for it Spencer! Break the fucker! Get me the hell out of this thing… _and then Spencer was gone again and all he could see was Sam doing things with that bottle again.

And angels sung into Floyd's ears… _Give in to it! Come with us! _

And Floyd thought… _Lying mother fucking cunts… get the hell out of my head_

And so it went on… and on… Spencer appeared again and this time stood there looking at those clenched fists out in front of Floyd. Those fists which seemed to be both asking Spencer to join him and telling him to keep back.

'I'll get you out.'

Floyd saw Spencer mouth those words.

'I can do this.' He said next.

_Get the fuck on with it then!_ Floyd screamed back into Spencer's head…

Spencer heard Floyd's voice. It shattered through his mind almost knocking him off his feet. He looked up at Floyd's blank eyes and carried on again. He checked that the circle hadn't been broken and then stood in front of Floyd with his own hands out and told Floyd to come to him. 'Just walk out. Come to me. You can do it! This is all a trick. Remember it's a play on the mind. It's not real. None of this is real.'

_Mass hallucinations?_

'I don't know, but I know this is to trick us and to keep us here. We know better, so just step back out again.'

_Can I keep the black leather jockstrap? _

'Stop distracting me! But yes… please do… now just walk out of there. You're going a funny colour.'

_Cant move_.

'You can! You can move and I'm sure you can breathe too. Just do it! Ignore whatever it is you're being told… come out here… Floyd please.' Spencer went to one knee and put his head down but kept his hands out in front of him. 'I'll give you anything you want. You don't need what they tried to offer you. It's not real. I'm real.'

_Is Sam real? I mean _for_ real? What the fuck? _

'Floyd move! Walk forwards before it's too late. You released the feathers. You dropped them. You _can_ move!'

_Do you promise to love me and only me? Do you promise to only fuck with Sam when I don't care if you do or not and to leave him alone when I'm in a bloody minded pissy mood? Do you promise to…_

'I cleave to you and only you!' Spencer shouted out. 'Move yourself. It's nothing but images in our heads. It's not really here!'

Floyd actually moved one of his hands up to his face now and swiped away that annoying bit of hair. He wiped the back of his hand under his nose and nodded slowly. It seemed to be a painful thing to do.

'I'll give you so much loving if you come to me now.' Spencer tried a lure of his own. 'I'll kiss you in your special places.' Now Spencer smirked. 'Just come to me.'

'Oh fuck! It's stuck!' Sam's voice suddenly cut in.

Spencer didn't turn to look but he saw Floyd's eyes suddenly lose that blank look and go wide. He then saw Floyd lick his lips and move one foot forward. The movement was accompanied by a flow of blood from his nose and a cough which sprayed blood over the glass… but not just over it, some actually made its way through the glass and onto the stuff Spencer had placed around the tube, where Spencer stayed kneeling and looking at the way the blood soaked into the salt and other things he'd added to it. Useless things as it turned out, but he wasn't to know that at the time. As he looked up a feather broke free of its confines and blew away across the hall. 'Come on!' Spencer bellowed. 'Floyd, another step!'

Another feather… then a cracking snapping sound and a rent appeared in the front of the tube, running from the floor to the ceiling fifty foot or so above them. Floyd's eyes moved from Sam and to the crack.

Spencer could see Floyd shaking his head. The feathers were flying back away from the gap as air seemed to suddenly be sucked into the tube. Floyd's steps now went back a couple of paces, his hair flew back from his face, one hand swept to his eyes as thought to protect them and he then gave Spencer a gesture and a quick message. _It's going to blow outwards… cover yourself… cover Sam!_

Sam was too distracted by the bottle to have realised that something was going on with Floyd and his tube… The first Sam knew was when Spencer shoved him to the side and like a brave bunny lay across Sam and placed his hands over the side of Sam's face. Sam let out a squeak of surprise and told Spencer… 'Just wait a fucking sec… need to get the bottle out first.' And then the tube exploded outwards. The glass flew across them in long dagger length shards. More fell from the ceiling and dropped in deadly spikes to the floor where most of them shattered to a million tiny slithers. Sam screamed. Spencer let out some pain filled gasps as glass tore over his skin, slicing into his back and the back of his legs. Sam was screaming… 'What the fuck just happened?'

Floyd saw it give way. It seemed to bow outwards then be sucked inwards again… the tube groaned and made snapping, cracking sounds, then an explosive bang and the tube was gone. They way it blew meant that Floyd appeared to be the only thing as far as he could see which wasn't covered in glass. He stood looking at Spencer who was letting out some yelps and cries, and Sam who was crying and wriggling and screaming. Then there was sudden silence. Floyd wondered at first if the pressure had made him go deaf, but he shook his head and raised his hands to his ears and clicked his fingers. Definite sound… and now Sam was wailing and crying again and Spencer was carefully moving to sit up. Still Floyd didn't move. He wiped his hands on the leather trousers he was still wearing and then snatched at a feather which was falling down past his nose. 'My fucking wings…' He muttered and kissed the feather. 'Close, but not close enough.'

Spencer heard the cracking of glass as someone walked towards him. He looked up and frowned. Floyd still seemed to be wearing what he had been when inside the tube. Floyd touched Spencer on the shoulder as a _thank you_ and then he leaned over Sam, rolled the screaming idiot onto his front, tore the bottle from where it had been inserted and whacked Sam over the head with it. It was meant for carrying water in. It's days for that use were now long gone.

'Spencer, can you stand?'

Reid pulled a face but nodded. 'If you can just check that I'm not as badly hurt as it feels I am.'

'Get to your feet then.' Floyd snatched up the end of Sam's leash and was about to pull him to his feet when not so far away another tube suddenly exploded. This one didn't blow feathers everywhere, this one had been full of hot oily liquid. It splattered down in dime sized greenish splats and turned to something which looked like wax as soon as it hit the floor. 'I have a feeling that they're all going to go. We have to get the hell out of here or we are going to be dead anyway. Sam move your fucking self! This is your damned fault. I've not forgotten that. Spencer lemme have a quick look at your back.'

As Spencer turned, Sam was getting moodily to his feet. Then he saw what Floyd was wearing and his face which had been one of intense pain turned in a flash to one of hate. 'You fucking liar! You said the stuff offered was a trick! I could have had that… I could… those… Oh my fucking God! You greedy selfish cunt!' Floyd ignored Sam's rant and twisted the leather leash tighter around his hand as the other hand played gently over Spencer's back. He pulled out a few bits of glass, but nothing had sliced too deeply.

'I'll have to have a better look later. It's not too back though. You'll heal just fine.'

'And what about me? What about my… those, they… the… Oh fuck you! I wanted those silver pants! They were silver leather! I would have looked like a fucking god in them!'

Another explosion, this time sending out red bubbles and a few bits of glass which brushed against Floyd's hair. 'We need to go now.' Floyd tugged on the leash.

'Not until I have my…' Floyd did what Spencer had done not so long ago but with a bit more strength and under the jaw. Sam dropped like a stone.

'I'll carry him. At least it'll protect my back. Thank you Spence. You did good.'

Spencer sucked in his bottom lip as Floyd slung Sam over his shoulder. 'You look good in that stuff.'

'Not sure about this shirt.' Floyd ran a hand down the small frills.

'It's not bright pink mesh. Think yourself lucky.'

They ran. The tubes exploded in the distance and as the stone pillars seemed to be staying in tact they were able to use them as shields against most of the mess being blasted at them. After about ten minutes of weaving in and out of the safety of the stone, Spencer saw something out of the corner of his eye. A pillar had collapsed in a pile of tiny chips of clear glass, but it was what was laying in the clear area inside which caught his attention. He called at Floyd to keep going. 'I'll catch up!' He shouted as Floyd started to turn to see why Spencer had stopped running. 'Keep going! I'll catch up.' He gave Floyd a shove on the arm. 'Please!' There was no explanation but the determined look on Spencer's face and the crashing of glass creeping up on them let Floyd know that there was no point in arguing.

'Just hurry. Whatever it is you've seen, grab and run.'

Spencer didn't answer. He turned to the side and legged it towards what he'd seen laying in the clear area.

He could hear Floyd running off again as his own feet crunched over the glass and then he crouched down, letting out a hiss of painful air as the cuts on his back opened and started bleeding again. He picked up the things he'd seen and shoved them into his bag, turned and ran again towards where he could hear Floyd shouting…

'Spencer! Hurry the fuck up!'


	41. Chapter 41

41

Floyd had called out for Spencer to hurry up, but he'd not slowed his run. They were still right in the middle of the hall and if they didn't get out quickly something would eventually get at least one of them. He could hear the _whumps _and_ crashes_ both behind and now to the side of him too.

'Spencer! Hurry the fuck up!' He'd called to him… He'd heard no reply, but so much noise was going on now that he doubted that he would have heard him if he'd called back or not. Floyd stopped, spun, nearly lost his balance and called out again. 'Spencer!'

And this time there was a reply. 'I'm on my way! Keep moving. I'm following you!'

Floyd hoped it wasn't yet another trick. He hesitated. Maybe the voice hadn't been real. Maybe he'd imagined it. He wished in a way that Sam was awake so he could ask if he'd heard Spencer call back too, but waking Sam up now wasn't a good plan. He called back to Spencer again. 'Just fucking hurry! I don't know if that's you or…'

'It's me!'

And now Floyd could hear someone heading his way, cracking over broken glass and getting closer. Floyd nodded, turned and started to run again. There really was no time to stand around debating with your own sanity as it whether something was real or not.

'Spencer!' Spencer skidded to a stop and spun. Glass and bits of plastic crunched under his feet. 'Help me!'

'It's not real.' Spencer answered the voice of his mother. 'You're not real!' He shouted out. 'Leave me alone!' But he could feel the weight of the things in his bag. Things he'd picked up… things left to lure – and those things seemed real enough. He took a step in the direction he could hear his mother still calling out for help.

'Please, Spencer… it's so dark. Everything is so confusing! I don't know where I am! You're all I have now, Spencer! I know you're there… please help me!'

Spencer shrugged the bag more securely onto his shoulder and shook his head. 'You're not my mother! You are guilt! I'm not going to listen to you!' He then turned again and began to run away. He ran and chugged in lung full after lung full of hot dry air… He did as he had done before and pressed a hand onto his side, just below his ribs and tried to breath in deep long healthy regular breaths, but it's difficult when behind you, you can hear your mother screaming that she was dying and needed you to come back. 'Let me see you one last time!' She howled like a banshee, and Spencer wiped the tears off his face.

He caught a flash of movement… something red and black off to his left and in front. He wanted to call out and ask if it was Floyd, but the breath he had was needed to keep him pounding one foot in front of the other, but he moved in that general direction. Again he saw the thing dart behind a stone column as something popped and showered the surrounding area with what at first Spencer thought was eyes… closer inspection actually confirmed this. It was like running over squashy marbles. Some popped, some slid… some were just rotting bags of pus anyway and squirted out either side of his boot as he ran. 'It's not real.' He muttered as he let out a breath… 'Nothing is real.' But that didn't explain why his bag felt heavier or why he could feel one of the things he'd put in there smacking on his hip as he ran.

It was definitely Floyd he could see though. Now he was closer he could see the way his hair was bouncing and the way he was running. He saw Floyd look over his shoulder and leer slightly… or was that just a smile? Spencer spared one in return and again the three of them were together and hurtling through the maze of pillars and junk being tossed at them from every direction in an attempt to slow them down.

A book flew past Spencer's ear. He heard the whining rustling sound it made, but when it fell to the floor in front of him and the pages fluttered open… he could see that they were blank. A fake temptation… like the voice of his mother. Like seeing his parents together. Like the feathers which had been offered – if that's what that had been about anyway – to Floyd… all fake… and again that thing dug into his hip as his bag jiggled at his side and Spencer wondered what it was he had _really_ picked up… but then he looked at what Floyd was wearing and grinned. Maybe some of the stuff on offer was real after all?

They were at one point pelted with bowls off food, which looked and smelt like a chilli Floyd would have made on one of his good days. They had bags of candy, bars of chocolate, hats, tubes of lubes, pornographic magazines… Floyd swooped down and nabbed a few of those. There were soft velvet cushions, small twists of something grey wrapped I cellophane, jelly babies, sex toys, bars of soap… Floyd again swooped down and grabbed a pink bar and stuck it in his pocket. A bucket of tobacco seemed to have emptied over Spencer's head, getting up his nose and in his eyes. It tasted of how he imagined old barns to taste of. Nothing good… not even Floyd would have smoked it. Gaming chips, playing cards, a whole roulette wheel flew towards them, but missed by about twenty foot. Phials of drugs… needles, crack pipes, small coloured bottles of things Spencer couldn't even begin to guess at. Photographs fluttered down, pictures which seemed to be of natural and man made disasters… flowers were dropped at their feet, pottery vases full of earth… glass, water, and just bubbles of every conceivable colour floating by and popping or swirling up to the ceiling and disappearing into the dark.

There… over on the right was a sudden _crump_ and a smell of sulphur. They didn't turn to look. They didn't want to see what had cause that, but it had the effect of making them run faster as now the bubbles floating in front of their eyes reflected back an orange glow building up behind them.

_We are going to die_… Spencer really thought this. Something was going to land on them and flatten them to the smooth marble floor. He glanced up almost expecting to see a grand piano up there teetering on the edge of something invisible but tottering and slipping and then heading their way. There was nothing though, at least not yet.

There was a deep burning pain in Spencer's side just before they reached the end of the hallway. He had moved his hand up almost to his armpit to try to sooth the pain, knowing that pressing his hand there would have no effect. What he needed was to stand still, hold his side and take long deep breaths. Get his diaphragm to calm down and steady his internal organs. He could see the end of the hallway. He could see where the pillars at long last stopped and the cavern opened right the way up again. The strange coloured light dropped away and was replaced by that dull, almost star lit look. He bent forward to take in some lovely deep air and someone screamed from behind him. 'Spencer don't leave me! Please don't leave me again. You locked me away, now stay with me! Stay with me Spencer. You've all I have!' Reid stood, licked his lips and hurtled the last few yards out of the hallway. The noise and the voices stopped immediately his feet left that smooth floor. He turned back to look and there they were, the brightly lit pillars all standing there whole, waiting for the next person to walk through them. Spencer saw a few bubbles float away and he could still smell the sulphur but that was all.

Floyd grasped Spencer's hand. 'Lay down. Time for me to check your back. Gonna have to ask you to take your pants off though. Sorry darling…' He said the word _darling_ as though he was tasting a very fine whiskey or new red wine. 'What's in the bag?'

Spencer looked over at Sam who was unfortunately sprawled naked on his back. 'I'm not sure. I thought it was something, but maybe it was a trick. But, you sure look damned good dressed like that. I'm even getting used to the frills.'

There was time for a smile from Floyd before Spencer was stripped of his trousers to allow Floyd to do a very close finger tip search of Spencer's back and the back of his legs… there was also a pretty butt to inspect.

'You know how sensitive a tongue is?' Floyd commented as he ran fingers over Spencer's buttocks. 'Well I was thinking…'

'You want to get glass in your tongue? Just use fingers for now please and I can promise you that there is no glass where you're feeling me right now. Really. Just get what you can see and then sort Sam out.'

'Saved my life, you did.'

'I know. It's OK… I'll get a medal off you later… Floyd! No. Please not now. I'm too tired to enjoy it.'

o-o-o

They walked, with Sam still over Floyd's shoulder for about half an hour. Floyd had done a good job of getting most of the glass out of Spencer's back and legs, but there were still a couple of places where it looked as though tiny splinters were under his skin. Floyd suggested that they got away from the vague and distant voices before they settled down and took a good long rest. He could see that Spencer had something stuffed in his bag and wanted to ask what it was in hopes that Spencer had found him something nice, but as Spencer didn't mention it he didn't either. He'd soon find out what it was and be able to give Spencer a proper thanks. The thought put a slight spring in his step.

They were now in another huge cavern which seemed to have no ceiling, but odd looking stars up there instead. It didn't feel as though they were enclosed. The space was far too big to make it feel at all claustrophobic. Again, though there seemed to be no life. Even Spencer had noted the lack of animal droppings or even bones. He assumed that was because nothing ever got through where the tempting pillars and tubes invited every dream you could wish for.

Spencer was just about to start to get worried about the length of time Sam had been out cold when Sam suddenly threw himself off Floyd's shoulder with a cry of fright. It seemed to all of them a good time to stop.

Firstly Sam asked a load of questions. He had no memory of Floyd hitting him and the business with the water bottle seemed more like part of a dream, but Sam needed to know everything that had happened. Floyd didn't admit that he'd clobbered Sam and Sam didn't ask… Spencer thought maybe honesty was sometimes best kept to one side when dealing with Sam and decided not to tell him what had really happened. They also seemed to decide between them that the bottle business didn't need to be talked about either. Sam was sulking though. Initially because he clamed that he'd missed all the fun and secondly because he didn't have any clothes.

'You were covered in shards of glass.' Spencer explained. 'It was just safer that way.'

Then Sam was sulking because Floyd was still dressed pretty fine! 'You said it was all fake.' He insisted.

'It's just clothing. That wasn't what was really on offer and you must have something tucked away in your bag.'

Sam sniffed and pushed his bag away with a foot. 'Yeah… probably.' But he didn't seem to be in any hurry to have a look. Sam knew that the only stuff he had left in there was a jockstrap and a green sock with a hole in the toe.

'When on the way out,' Spencer said, 'I saw something which I thought you might like.' Both Floyd and Sam looked over at Spencer. 'Something I thought Sam would like.' Spencer then added. Floyd raised an eyebrow but said nothing. 'I don't know if you _will_ like it and as it came from one of those tubes I don't know if it will even be any good now, but it's in my bag.' Spencer pushed his packed bag over towards Sam. 'Don't get too excited. As I said, it might not be any good.'

Floyd's other eyebrow raised and his tired expression turned almost into that indulgent parent look he sometimes had. Even though whatever was in the bag had nothing to do with Floyd… he was still enjoying this. A lot. At least for now.

Sam pulled open the top of the bag and looked in. The first thing he pulled out was a long sleeved pink mesh top. Floyd let out a snort of a laugh remembering what Spencer had said about his own shirt. Sam said nothing. He just looked at it, held it up and then placed it to one side. The next thing he dragged out of the bag was a pair of bright pink boots. Sam ran his fingers over them, gave Spencer a curious look and then slipped one of his feet in to test for size. It seemed to be a perfect fit. Still they sat in silence. The next and final thing was something which made tears of joy come to Sam's eyes, tears of dismay come to Floyd's and a smile spread over Spencer's face.

'Oh my fucking god!' Sam leapt to his feet holding a pair of silver leather biker trousers… 'They're fucking awesome! You got these for me?'

'Well, I don't think they'd look right on me, do you?' Spencer asked.

'I dunno… no… no… Fucking hell!'

'They might not fit.' Spencer cautioned him.

'There's always hope.' Floyd muttered.

'Why?' Sam spun on Floyd. 'You hoping they'll fit you or something?'

'By the gods no! Not my sort of thing… too… erm…' Floyd looked at Spencer for help.

'Too… erm…' Spencer also paused to think. 'Clubby.' He finally said.

'Yeah… good word.' Floyd pulled a cheroot out of his pocket where all this treasures seemed to have transferred to. 'Way too clubby. Way too fucking faggy too. But you're a perfect little queer. Enjoy them.'

And as Sam pulled on the collection of clothes Spencer had run off to get him Floyd's heart skipped little beats which he hoped was hidden from Spencer. Sam was drooling with delight and Spencer just sat, and it was he who was now feeling like the indulgent parent. Spencer thought Sam looked really rather good. Even the pink boots with the laces and buckles looked good… at least looked good on Sam. The silver trousers were very low cut and not so tight that they showed every lump and swelling. They did show up those neat hip bones of his though.

Sam thought he looked bloody fine!

Spencer thought Sam looked happy for the first time in as long as he could remember. Genuinely happy too… not that false _I am going to stab you in the back at the first chance I get_ sort of happy… and that made Spencer happy and made Floyd feel mighty uncomfortable.

'You two need to sleep.' To Spencer, Floyd sounded snappy as he watched Sam do a pretend cat walk.

Spencer moved up close to Floyd and slipped an arm around his waist. 'Are you annoyed with me?'

Floyd shook his head but then turned it to face Spencer. 'You risked you life to get Sam some slut clothes from hell?'

There was a small one shouldered shrug from Spencer. 'I did.'

'Why? Why risk your life for that fucking joke of a being?'

'I will risk my life for you too. Don't worry. First chance I get I will do that, but I thought it important that I attempt to mend damaged bonds. Things were backsliding.'

'I thought the pair of you were getting too close.'

Spencer leaned forward slightly so that their noses were touching. 'I have very mixed feelings towards Sam. My feelings for you are solid. I don't need to show that with cheap gifts.'

'You don't?' Floyd licked his lips and then licked Spencer's. 'You could though, just occasionally. I adore cheap gifts. Lay on your front and relax for now though, I'm going to get the tweezers out and search for those last bits of glass.' He raised his hands to the sides of Spencer's head and took a firm hold of his ears. 'I think I might have solid feelings for you too, but don't spoil the dog. He'll take advantage of you.'

Floyd didn't sleep that night. He sat and kept watch.

He watched the way, Spencer who was on his front with his arms folded under his head, muttered in his sleep. He watched the way his shoulders rose and fell. He watched the way he twitched slightly during his dreams. Floyd wanted to curl up behind him and give him something nice, but he knew how tired Spencer must be… and they had a lot of walking to do again the following day, or wake period, whatever…

Floyd also watched Sam slowly strip off his new clothes and place them to one side. He watched Sam pull the old jockstrap out of his bag and pull it on. Not that putting that thing on made much difference. Sam too was laying on his front with his clothes folded neatly to this side. Sam too twitched slightly in his sleep, he moaned, wriggled, flexed his exposed buttocks… and that was all the invitation that Floyd needed. He placed a hand over Sam's mouth and told him… 'If you make one goddamned noise I'll destroy those fucking clothes Spence gave you.' … and then took him from behind.

Someone might have thought it was a bit of jealousy playing its part. Floyd wanted his boys to get on, but only enough not to kill each other and only enough to join in the occasional fuck… maybe let the two of them play sometimes, but when _he_ wanted them to. Not when they thought they'd like to. Floyd hurt Sam. He meant to do it and he succeeded, but Sam took it in silence. Total silence. Floyd wasn't given his excuse to destroy the nice things Spencer had given him.

During the post coital smoke, Floyd _accidentally_ caught Sam on the arm with the burning red end of the cheroot and still Sam stayed silent. A silence which surprised Floyd. Did Sam really desire the clothes so much that he could actually keep his mouth shut? Floyd wondered what else he could use that threat on.

Once both Sam and Spencer were awake again, they sat and ate and had a drink and smoke and relaxed for a short while. Spencer wanted reassurance that the voices he'd heard weren't his parents. It was bothering him now that they'd spent this much time away from the tubes and Floyd and Sam still had the clothes. It made no sense to Spencer. If they were real, what else in there had been real?

'Had my mother been taken and held here to torment me?'

Floyd frowned and shook his head. He actually had no fucking idea! Not an iota of a clue. It was puzzling him as much as it was worrying Spencer. 'Of course not! They were just projections from your mind. The clothes seem to be more solid, but they weren't living creatures.' That seemed to sound reasonable to Floyd and that was for him the end of the subject.

Spencer wiped his hands over the fabric of the cords he still had on. The knees were frayed and torn, they were worn and rough around the hem… and though they'd been washed, maybe, by Ambrose (who Sam and Floyd were munching down on for breakfast) they were still slowly falling apart. He now had small tears in the back of them from the glass which wasn't helping the stability of the fabric one bit!

'So, what's to expect next?' Spencer asked.

Sam looked up at Spencer and then looked at Floyd. 'The cavern comes to an end and there will be six passages leading off.' Sam spoke in a hushed voice not much more than a whisper. 'Each tunnel leads to a different destination, but ultimately all go to the same place. Like they say, all roads lead to Rome, and so all tunnels will eventually take us to the same place, but via other places. Does that make sense? It doesn't really matter which one we take.'

Floyd took up the words now. 'There is a place called The Staging Post. It's a huge area where they divide up the forces. They will find us a group… a… fuck I don't know what they're called… little party to fight along side with. We will train for a short while, anything from a day to a few months, depending on ability. That's just one place though. Before there is the bridge, and the…' Floyd waved his hands in front of his face. 'What the hell is it called, Sam?'

'The Web over the Abyss.' Sam helped out with. 'It's like if you put a spider on acid and let it spin a web it'll be like a mental mess… imagine hundreds of those layered one over the other with say ten foot of so between… and imagine the threads of the web being as wide as like a few inches thick… each strand… then imagine an infinite amount of them in those layers and them being placed over a pit which will drop you down into a forever burning fiery hell… you cant see the other side of it from the edge… if you fall you will fall forever and probably get sliced into pieces on your way down and not only will you feel your body burn forever but each little bit that falls will reform into another you and that will burn forever and you'll feel that burning too. It's the worst death imaginable. So the trick is not to fall.'

Spencer looked at Floyd for confirmation. Floyd nodded. Spencer felt sick.

'And how do we walk over this web thing?' Spencer needed to know.

'With great caution.' Floyd advised.


	42. Chapter 42

42

They could hear what sounded like running water for a good hour before they actually came across it. It was running down the wall in a slippery waterfall and gathering into a dark stone basin which had been carved out of the rock. At first Spencer thought that there were creatures standing on the lip of the bowl, which was a half circle and about fifty foot across the centre, but they were just very lifelike carvings. At least he assumed they were lifelike, Spencer had never seen creatures quite like the ones sitting there. They were grotesques. A row of gargoyles jutted out of the wall leading down in steps, their head open to collect the water which they squirted out of their mouths. Everything was carved in the over familiar black glassy rock that seemed to be what made up this vast place.

The three of them stood looking at the water and then together they walked slowly forwards. Sam was shedding the clothes he had on as he walked and Spencer was thinking how lovely it would be to just dip his head under running water again. It was such a simple pleasure and one he was missing recently.

'Fill the water bottles first.' Floyd said as he hunkered down to pull things out of this bag. 'I don't want to have to drink piss infected water… so fill these first.'

'Are you sure we can drink it?' Spencer was leaning over the lip of the basin which was at about his hip height. They had been back on rationing the water and his mouth felt dry and he felt light headed. This water didn't have that strong smell of minerals that the other had. It was clear and clean and…

Sam bounced into the water without waiting to fill the water bottles. He just needed desperately to be wet on every part of his body. The water splashed up onto Spencer's face making him gasp with the shock of the icy coldness. Sam howled in surprise but it didn't stop him from ducking right under the water and getting the grit and dirt out of his hair. No soap… didn't matter. Didn't matter at all.

'Ah.' Floyd sighed, picked up the bottles and stood next to Spencer. He placed a hand on Spencer's backside and passed him a bottle. 'Gonna join Sam?' Sam was now jumping up and down splashing like a kid in a paddling pool. 'The kids is sliding backwards emotionally.' Floyd spoke quietly into Spencer's ear. 'I'd love to be able to say that it's nothing to worry about, but…' He rolled up a sleeve as he spoke and dipped his hand into the water. Bubbles popped to the surface as the bottle slowly filled.

'But what?' Spencer took a bottle and did the same as Floyd, slowly filling a bottle.'

'But his behaviour. We are getting close. Later today I'd imagine we'll reach the six exits out of this place. I don't want him leashed. I don't want him running off half cocked. He's gonna get himself and us killed. He's meant to be my main weapon, but it's like the sights have been tampered with, or it's been dipped in oil and keeps escaping my grasp. I dunno if that makes sense to you.'

'You have the sword.' Spencer reminded him.

Floyd nodded and screwed the lid on the bottle and the got another ready. 'Yeah, I have the sword, but Sam is for long range. I need him Spencer. I need that kid to get his mind screwed back onto his work and stop behaving like he's a fucking ten year old. He's going to turn on one of us.' Floyd tapped his forehead. 'It's here. I know. He's going to fire those arrows into one of us for no more reason than he felt like it at the time. He's going bonkers… or more bonkers. As my sanity feels like it's stabilising, his seems to be non-existent.'

Spencer looked over at Sam who was now laying under the water on his back letting air out of his lungs slowly and making little bubbles float on the surface. 'Then we keep an eye on him.' Spencer said. 'Keep him in front of us.'

'And then there's the things on his ribs.' Floyd spoke very quietly, almost directly into Spencer's ear. 'Ever since that Spider Bitch had at him, there's been something growing very slowly… four on each side of his ribs. He thinks I don't know… but it's bothering me. They're not right Spencer. Not right at all. This whole thing is completely fucked to be very honest with you.' Floyd slid a hand down the back of Spencer's cords. 'Lean over and let me have you.' That voice was still right in Spencer's ear. 'I'm not going to take _no_ for an answer.' There was a sudden lurching, sickening need inside of Floyd. If Spencer had told Floyd that fucking him right now would make his dick fall off, he'd not have been able to stop himself. Spencer didn't say 'no', but Spencer didn't say 'OK' either. He leaned further over the lip of the basin and pushed his hands into the deep cold water. He gave Sam a small sideways glance… Sam seemed to be still laying on the bottom of the basin now. The bubbles had stopped. He looked like some kind of water god, or monster, laying there waiting for someone to get close and then rip into the victim like a shark. Spencer could see it in his mind's eye.

'Floyd? Something…' He didn't get further. Floyd's hand rested on the back of his head and pushed forwards. Spencer was just about able to pull in a cold breath of air before Floyd pushed his head under the water.

Floyd wasn't really aware of what he was doing. Killing Spencer was probably what it was though. He thought at first that he wanted Spencer's arse, but that water was calling to him… calling to just cleanse and move on alone. He didn't need Spencer and he certainly didn't need Sam. He felt something crack against his shin and ignored it the first few times. Then he felt fingers pulling at his hand…

Spencer had been expecting a short rough session. He actually wouldn't have minded it too much either. But there was something wrong with Sam who didn't seem to be moving and the bubbles had stopped coming out of his mouth. He kicked back at Floyd when his head was pushed under the water, but Floyd who was now grinding against Spencer just seemed to move his leg slightly to avoid being kicked again. He tried kicking back again and caught Floyd hard this time and got his head pushed down harder as a result. Not that it mattered how far into the water his face was pushed. Just an inch was enough to kill him. He could see Sam laying there with his hair drifting around his face like seaweed and his eyes wide open looking up at the surface of the water. Spencer thought again that Sam looked like a beautiful sea creature, but again he thought maybe like a mermaid, he was going to pull anything which came close into its deathly grasp.

His lungs were burning and a small bit of air was released to try to stop him from passing out and drowning anyway, but it was impossible just to release a little. The whole lot expelled in a series of silent screams. He reached to his head and tried to pull Floyd's hands away, but the more he struggled the more Floyd pushed against him and the harder that hand kept a tight hold.

Floyd stood back and looked at what he'd done.

Spencer was laying limp over the edge of the basin of water. His hair was floating on the surface of the water and Spencer's arms were floating there on the water too. Floyd thought that in all likelihood that Spencer was dead. He couldn't see the rise and fall of the shoulders. There was too much water everywhere to tell if Spencer had had his very last ever piss. He leaned forwards over the lip of the black watery basin and looked down at Sam.

Sam was talking to him. Clearly! Very clearly. 'Join me! Come and join me!' And it looked as though Sam reached up to grab him.

'You'll not trick me into your grave.' Floyd snarled back. 'Not me. I'm not so easily fooled.' He glanced at Spencer and the corner of Floyd's eye twitched slightly. 'Spencer?' He touched the battered and cut back. He ran a finger down Spencer's spine, feeling the knobbles and lumps. He felt along the ribs and over the curve of his buttocks, which were just about peeping out of the top of his cords. He touched that dimple. The one he had kissed when Spencer was still a child.

'No.' Floyd wrapped an arm around Spencer's middle and pulled him back out of the water. 'NO! Spencer!'

Whatever it was which had had control over Floyd's mind for a while was gone. Spencer wasn't breathing. Spencer way a soggy lump of unbreathing mess. Floyd sat back on his hunkers and looked down at what he'd done. Quickly he rolled him onto this back and pushed down on his back. 'Breathe for me Spence. Spit the shit out and breathe. I know you can hear me. I can feel your heart pounding away there, so just breath, Babes.' Floyd quickly checked for a pulse, which was weak but actually there. 'Breathe you motherfucker! I don't have time for this crap! I have to go get Sam. Come on!' Floyd heard a deep down gurgling sound coming from Spencer… he felt his back shudder and a dribble of something which looked black and oily slipped out of Spencer's nose. 'More!' Floyd bellowed at him. 'Hurry the fuck up and spit the shit out!'

Spencer felt the hands pressing on his back, but he could also feel something trying to crawl around his insides. It was as though a band of metal had been wrapped around his lungs to stop anything from reaching them. He couldn't remember swallowing water, but it was getting harder to remember anything… _thump_ and the pressure was on his back and a voice was shouting at him, but the words made no sense. Spencer thought maybe that they were being said in a language he didn't know. Oddly it was Floyd's voice. He knew that… and maybe Floyd's hands… 'Spit!' He was being told… at least he managed to filter that one word out of all of the others, which seemed to be running into one long howl of panic. Spencer tried to spit, but something was stopping him and something was in his throat stopping him from coughing.

'Spencer!'

He heard that! He heard it… and he felt something moving out of his throat and up the back of his nose and there it crawled away, cold and wet like old custard. Then the coughing started.

'What the fuck?'

He heard that too, but didn't know what that alarmed voice was worried about… A breath! Ah the gods… at last… Spencer's heart did a strange wobbling bounce in his chest and it felt as though his brain had been put through a mangle, but another breath followed… the hands moved from his back. 'Keep breathing… keep doing that. Well done. Fucking fab and now I'm gonna get Sam. Don't you fucking move from that spot. Don't eat anything.'

Eat anything? Spencer wanted to know what Floyd meant by that. Why would be want to eat something when it felt as though he'd just been dragged back from the brink of death. A death which Floyd him self had initiated. He didn't answer Floyd, but carried on coughing. The stuff he was coughing up was thick and slimy. He could taste it in his mouth and smell it up his nose. It smelt of car fumes and oil… like a garage on a hot summer day. He kept his eyes closed and listened to the sounds going on around him and thought of rainbows in city puddles after a day of rain. He thought of how when he'd first seen them that they were so beautiful… Rainbows captured forever in a puddle. He'd wanted to take some home with him, but however much he pleaded, his mother had denied his request, telling him that it was a trick; a trick… it was poison. It wasn't what it appeared to be. It was beautiful though. His mother had crouched on the wet sidewalk with her young son and they dropped tiny stones into the water and together they had watched the way the rainbow moved. Spencer had told his mother that he thought it was alive and though she had said it was just the way the water rippled, he now thought that he'd been right. There had been a monster in that puddle, a monster he had awoken by throwing stones into it, a monster he had tried to capture and take home… where it would have dried up and died. And now that monster had found him again and had tried to show Spencer just how poison the water really was. He coughed again. He thought about apologising to that long ago puddle in the City… it wasn't in Vegas. He didn't know where he had been… not Vegas. The memories of the smells were all wrong. Spencer took long deep breaths and actually allowed himself to cry a while as he remembered that day in a forgotten city, holding his mother's hand in the crowded streets and looking at their reflections in the watery streets and shop windows. And there was something else too… a reflection of another person who seemed sometimes to be there and sometimes not. A man… a man in jeans and shirt and with dark hair.

Floyd couldn't reach Sam from the edge of the basin of water. He would have to go in and get him. He slipped with masterful speed out of his boots and pants, shrugged off the jacket (which he thought he might forget to put back on again.) and he waded over to Sam. He held his breath, not wanting to get any of this water on his face, grabbed Sam under the armpits and dragged him out again.

He could hear Spencer was crying.

At least that meant he was breathing, huh?

He did much the same to Sam as he had done Spencer; laid Sam on his front and pounded on his back.

Sam too could taste what he thought petrol would taste of… petrol and hot engine oil. It made him cough and cry and it burnt at his eyes and other tender places. One of Sam's hands went to his groin where he let out an long wail of pain and though Floyd had only been in there for a short while he could feel this toes burning and the skin between his fingers itching like he had an allergy to something he'd touched.

Both of his boys lay in rainbow coloured puddles and cried and sobbed and finally Spencer sat up and rubbed at his eyes.

'There's… there's a monster…' Spencer started to say.

'Surprise!' Floyd replied. 'We are in hell. What do you expect? Disney Fucking Land? Nothing is how it seems. At least not when it looks so nice and tempting. Yes there's a monster in the water… shitting rainbows and pissing star lit nights and singing songs which make me want both of you dead. We need to move on. The six tunnels are close.'

This comment got a protest from Sam. 'But I nearly drowned! If it wasn't for my incredible ability to hold my breath for almost _ever_ then I'd be dead and because of that fact I would like to wash off this stinky water and rest a while.'

There was no time to rest. No time at all, Floyd didn't think that the water they'd put in the couple of bottles was any good, so they were set aside. Another half used bottle of water was then handed to Sam to wash in. Keep the dog happy and he was more likely to come to heel when you whistled.

'In case you're wondering…' Spencer started

Floyd wasn't wondering and told Spencer so. 'I'm not interested. Get sorted and let's go. If we mess around for too long we'll be locked out. We would have failed.'

'Then we can go home?' Sam wondered.

'No. Then we are stuck here forever. I'd sooner not be, so if you don't mind, get dressed and move along. We cant waste any more time.'

'Time means nothing here.' Sam pointed out.

'Well it means something here.' Floyd touched his own chest. 'Wanna argue?'

Sam shook his smelly wet hair. 'No. I dun wanna argue, but I'm tired.'

As no one wanted to argue and as Floyd was now dressed and ready to move on again it was decided (by Floyd – and rightly so!) that they would keep going and avoid all temptations until they reached the six tunnels. Spencer felt nauseous was continuously burping, Sam was just miserable and kept putting a hand on his chest as though there was something there hurting. It was likely the same thing causing Spencer to make such vulgar sounds. Both of them looked pale and shaky, but as Floyd pointed out, it was their own damned fault for getting so close to the water, and Sam should have listened and taken advice and Spencer shouldn't lean over things putting his dimples on display. Floyd also reminded Sam that if he ran off and didn't listen again he'd be back on a leash. Floyd even waggled it under Sam's nose and asked if he could be trusted.

'I'm the most trustworthy one amongst us.' Sam grumbled back.

'And the most delusional.' Floyd said.

'At least I'm not fucking paranoid like you.' Sam snapped and then quickly walked off walking his walk… the walk of a young man selling his arse on the streets.

Both Floyd and Spencer stood there watching as Floyd stuffed his red leather jacket into his backpack; both liking what they were seeing. 'He's making things so difficult.' Spencer told Floyd. 'I never used to look at Sam in that way. I don't know what's changed. Is it me or is it Sam? I should be thinking of him as a child. I should be shouting at you for treating him like a whore, but…'

Floyd slapped Spencer on the shoulder. 'It's the amount of time you've been in contact with him. He's fine. A very fine specimen and he'll flaunt what he's got there because that's what he's for. He's a living breathing sex toy.' Floyd tightened his grip on Spencer's bare shoulder. 'You may use him, but ask first.'

Spencer pushed his wet oily hair behind his ears and sighed. 'I don't want to feel like this. I was wondering if it is part of this temptation thing still… like… is this really how I'm feeling or is this some emotion which has been forced upon me to test my willpower.'

Floyd started to follow Sam, but his hand was still tightly on Spencer's shoulder and he dragged him along with him. 'What told you to go get that kit for him? Why did you do that? You like that? You like what he's wearing?'

'I'd not wear it myself, but it seems to suit Sam and…' Spencer sighed. 'Again I'm not sure if what I'm thinking is what I truly think. This place messes with our heads. The continual half light, the never knowing when we are going to reach the end. The constant feeling of being watched. If we don't get to somewhere soon, I will lose my mind. Floyd, this place, I thought I could deal with it at first, but the longer we are here, the worse it gets.' He rubbed at his eyes with his fingertips. 'My eyes are burning, my throat hurts.' He was after an apology from Floyd for trying to drown him and got nothing. As far as Floyd was concerned it wasn't his fault. Didn't need to apologise. It was that damned dimple that got him and it was Spencer who had put that on display.

'It'll pass.' Floyd told him and onwards they walked… temptation creeping in gradually as Sam walked in front of them.

Sam knew they were both looking at his arse. He grinned to himself and flicked his dirty hair over his shoulder. Damn he loved it when eyes were boring into his arse almost as much as he loved it when other things were boring into it. It was like a drug and it made Sam's head light and spinny with delight.

At last they could see the end of the cavern. It seemed to loom up suddenly in front of them. One minute there was just darkness and the next a row of tunnel entrances with gates sealing the way through them. They were evenly spaced with about five foot between each curved entry. Between each was a fluted pillar about three foot high. Sitting on the middle one was a small black creature. It was the first thing which Spencer had seen which really looked like a demon you'd see in illustrations of The Underworld. The thing slipped down from its perch and stood looking at the three of them with unblinking, glowing red eyes which were set in a head too large for its black shiny body. The arms were out of proportion to the rest of it and the fingers which ended in long black claws dragged along the ground as it walked slowly towards them on legs which hinged the wrong way and on feet which were not feet, but cloven hooves. Those hooves clicked and scraped across the floor towards them. It wasn't a large creature as it only stood about four foot tall, but it wasn't something Spencer wanted to get too close to all the same. There was a tail sweeping back and forth behind it and what looked, from where they were standing, folded wings on its back.

'Stragglers!' The voice like the length of the arms was out of proportion with the rest of it. It boomed loud enough to rattle Spencer's ear drums. Sam put his hands to his ears and pulled a face, but Floyd stood and did nothing.

'We were delayed.' Floyd answered. 'And you will deafen us with that voice if you don't lower the volume a notch.'

'Stragglers.' It repeated, this time in a normal pitch and volume. 'I've been sitting here for eons waiting for you. Was about to give up! The last ones went through weeks ago. Thought they were too late… you? I don't think you'll get there in time.' It walked a circle around Floyd, not touching, but sniffing at him and snapping a mouth full of teeth.

'We got here as soon as we could. Open the gate.'

'Demanding fucker. You have to choose first. Cant just open it for you.' It moved to stand in front of Spencer. 'And what's one of these doing here?' The tail flicked side to side making a sound like wind in the trees. Spencer said nothing so it turned back to Floyd. It ignored Sam. 'Choose then. I want to go home back to my brood.'

'I need to know what's behind the gates first.' Floyd didn't look at the thing as he spoke, he was looking at the locked gates.

'Ah… fuck it.' The thing turned and walked to the first gate. 'Everything you could possibly desire.' It tapped the gate lock with the end of its tail and then moved to the next. 'Long but safe trip…' Again a stroking gesture with the tail. 'Rhymes and discord!' It said at the third gate… 'War and chaos!' At the forth. 'A way out to the top… miss the fighting, but you'll live… maybe and finally through this one… Well you'll have to go through to find out.' It seemed to wink at Floyd now.

'A way out?' Sam asked. 'Really?'

Floyd smacked Sam over the back of the head. 'More likely a pit of fire. No way out Sammy-boy… not here. All paths lead to Rome, remember?'

Sam sighed and bit down on his bottom lip. Spencer stood watching the thing closely; waiting for it to attack or do something abhorrent.

'The forth.' Floyd announced.

'You sure… War and chaos? That's what you want is it? Sure I cant tempt you with everything you could possibly desire?'

There'd been enough temptation recently to last them all, except Sam maybe, a life time. 'I'm sure.' Floyd said. 'Unlock the sodding gate.'

'Going off to be soldiers! Such brave little bastards.' The thing moved towards the gate. 'You're very sure of this? Almost certain death awaits you.'

'Only almost is good enough for me. Open that fucking gate before I pull your tail of and fuck you with it.'

'Temper! Such a temper.' This time it ran fingers over the gate and the lock made a loud _clank_. 'You'll find provisions waiting. Water… something to eat… a beer or two maybe if your luck is in.' It now glanced at Sam. 'I tell you what. Leave the whore boy with me and I'll give you some strawberry tart.'

'Quite happy with the tart I have already. Thank you.' Floyd said.

'Mother fucking arsehole shit.' Sam spat at the thing and then smoothed down his mesh top.

As they stepped through into a tunnel which was lit with blazing torches high up on the walls, the gate slammed and clanked locked behind them.

'You chose the right one?' Spencer asked.

'Fuck knows.' Floyd replied.


	43. Chapter 43

43

At first they were able to walk three abreast. That soon changed though and Sam was forced to walk in front… about ten foot further on and Floyd took up the rear and Spencer walked in the middle. Sam was still sure that they were both looking at his arse though, so it really didn't bother him that he was out in front. Twenty feet further and a tunnel joined them from the right… another fifteen feet and one from the left. Floyd gave them both disinterested glances. It was pretty much as he had suspected. All the tunnels would eventually go to the same place. It didn't matter which one they'd chosen.

Their tunnel turned and joined another… and it was just a short way down this new passage that Sam stopped and turned to look at Spencer and Floyd. 'Door.' Sam thumbed over his shoulder. 'Strip lighting.' Sam pointed at the ceiling. 'Hell is getting an upgrade. Much impressed to be sure.' They all moved forwards now and looked at the door, which held normal proportions in height and width at least. There was a big black handle of the type you have to twist. The door was brown, made of wood and had three strips of blackened metal going crosswise over the door… to give it extra strength. There was also a polished brass plaque on the door with some strange symbols and patterns engraved on it. The three of them stared at the door and Floyd nodded and brought his fist up.

'Wait… just wait.' Spencer placed a hand over Floyd's fist. 'We don't now what that says.' He pointed to the sign on the door.

'Gallhakvagshanhajak.' Floyd and Sam both said the word which was more of a guttural growl than any sort of language, together. Sam added to the effect by spitting on the floor, and Floyd finished the word my spitting onto his palm.

Spencer gave them both a tired look. 'And what exactly does that mean?'

'Knock and enter.' Again they both spoke at the same time.

'What's this? Some kind of silly game – talking at the same time?'

Floyd shook his head and again lifted his fist and knocked three times, twisted the handle and pushed the door open. Sam sighed, Spencer closed his eyes and winced, Floyd smiled. The area beyond looked perfect normal. At least it would have looked perfectly normal any place other than down a tunnel in hell. A large counter stood five foot inside the door. It was a wooden counter with a man, at least from what they could see it looked to be a man, sitting at the desk with a computer monitor set slightly to his side and a keyboard in front of him. He was once a dark haired man, but was now bald on the top of his lightly tanned head and had salt and pepper greying in what was left. He had on wire rimmed spectacles and white shirt with garters on the upper arm. Floyd gave the man who looked to be around the fifty year old mark a small helping of a smile and stepped forwards.

'You're late. Give me your names.' The man snapped and then looked up. 'No need. That slut must be Sam Trent… which leaves the geek to be Dr Reid and you then the wondrous and much adored Floyd Flanders. Cant say it's a pleasure to meet you, because it's not. You're late, very late, my supplies are mostly gone. Very sorry, but tell me what it is you're after and I'll see if I have it in stock. One at a time please… Flanders as you are the leader of this merry band… first. What do you want?'

Floyd looked at Sam and Spencer and then at the man. 'Food and water.' He started. 'Sam there needs…'

'Sorry, really not interested in listening to what you think Trent the whore wants…'

'Hey! That's enough… I'm no whore…' Sam started, but shut up when Floyd gave him the cutting gesture and Spencer dragged Sam back away from the desk.

'I'll have those garters you're wearing on your arms, six one foot lengths of chain strong enough to hold the weight of a fully grown man. I need clips to hold them, manacles to attach them too. I need soft walking shoes and a hat.' Floyd stood back a step as the man typed in the request.

'I'll go get what you need.' He had a sulky irritated look on his face as he pulled the garters off his arms then smacked them down on the desk. 'Over two thousand years they've been mine.'

'Is that so? Well now they're mine. Get what I requested. I don't have all fucking day.'

As the man stood and walked away Floyd gathered in Spencer and Sam. 'Be sure to ask for food and water and for soft walking shoes.' He whispered. 'Sam you need to restock arrows and Spencer don't forget to get more herbs.'

'Blah, blah, blah… I know what to do.' Sam snapped and crossed his arms over his chest. 'I'm curious to know what you need chain and manacles for though.'

'You'll find out.' Floyd told him and patted the side of Sam's face. 'Spencer maybe you could request something to wear that's not falling off your bones? You're getting way skinny by the way.'

'We all are.' Spencer sighed

'Oh so now I'm not just a whore but a scrawny whore?' Sam bitched… but for now he was ignored.

The things Floyd requested were placed in a box on the counter. He told Floyd to check through everything, he didn't want complaints that the stock was substandard. He then got Floyd to sigh a docket and called Spencer over.

'I need provisions, food and water, some whiskey, a supply of tobacco and papers, shirt and a pair of combat pants with padded knees. Soft walking shoes, and I need to restock my herbs and remedies.' The man looked at Spencer with a snarl on his lip. 'You don't want much then do you. Fucking pain the arse. Lemme look at you. Need to see what size you are.' Again he typed something out on the keyboard and then walked away to collect what Spencer had asked for.

'Whiskey?' Floyd raised an eye brow at Spencer. 'You don't drink that much.'

'But you do and you didn't ask for any. It's good for putting on wounds anyway.' Spencer clamped a hand over Floyd's. 'You know we're going to be OK don't you? This is going to work out.'

Floyd nodded towards Sam who had found a small bit of reflective surface to admire himself in. 'As long as we can keep him on track then I think you're right.' Floyd rested a hand over Spencer's. 'I didn't mean to drown you. Well I did, but you know how things sometimes just happen. I had every intention of fucking you.'

Spencer pulled his hand out from where it was sandwiched between Floyd's. 'It's over with now. Almost so long ago… another temptation.' 'I think you're right. I failed.'

Spencer shrugged. 'We've all failed. It's not important. We are all alive. Shall we concentrate on keeping it that way?'

A box was smacked down under Spencer's nose. 'Check and sign.' The man said. 'Trent! Get over here and speak your order. You can talk cant you?'

'My knowledge of the language we are conversing in, is probably more extensive than the millions of languages you try to use.'

'Funny little fuck. Give me your order.'

'More arrows and a spare bow string. Rose scented soap, a whet stone, a lighter, more tobacco and rolling stuff, iced coffee to go, food and water and some soft walking shoes in size 7… that's UK sizing… I think it's a hellish 179484 or something around that mark. I'm not cloven so don't give me any of those arsy fancy shits. A small camping burner so can heat water in the small pan you're going to find for me and I want a supply of coffee – roasted and I want a small jar of honey. Can you also get me some eyeliner and a hairbrush and if there are any nice hair ties or clips back there, much appreciated.' Sam stood back… then called to the man who had snorted and muttered to himself and started to walk away. 'And a mirror! Small… so I can slip it in my pocket!'

Once they each had a box to carry they were escorted through a side door and out into a brightly lit corridor. A row of doors led down on each side. Each door had a number written on it. There was strip lighting again and a smooth floor. The walls seemed to be made of metal. The floor too. It reminded Spencer of the underground bunker they'd been in oh so many life times ago, but this place was much larger. The straight walls just carried on forever into the distance.

Room 519 has been allocated to Flanders. You two don't have a room. Trent, dog quarters are right down the end. Reid, I dunno what to do with you. You cant have your own room. I guess you can join the dog. You're the only ones here. Last lot left two days since. Take a day to rest up here though. It'll be the last time you get to sleep in a bed until… well, probably not until anything.' He smirked, turned and walked away.

Floyd carried on walking down the corridor. They walked past rooms with number 107 and 863 and then room number 1 and 90… there was no pattern to the numbers printed on the doors. They'd just have to keep walking and try to remember which ones they'd gone past already.

The room turned out to be almost square. A small twin bed sat to one side. There was a basin to wash in and a bucket to empty yourself into. A small green rug sat on the floor and a green cover was on the bed. Floyd stood looking at it and then at his boys. 'Well, we're going to have to fight over who gets the bed, I guess.' And he walked in. 'My dogs stay with me.' He gestured for Sam and Spencer to join him. Sam slammed the door closed behind him and dropped to sit on the bed. His box he placed at his feet.

'A bed. A damned real fucking bed. How long has it been since I slept in a real bed? Fuck… I think it's going to be too soft.'

Spencer bounced his backside on it too. 'It's soft – the bed that is. It's not a very firm mattress.'

Floyd sat down next to the pillow. There was a peppermint sitting there with a waxed, green and white paper around it. He dropped it into his box for now. 'Tell you what I'm going to do – I'm going to lay here and relax, Sam's going to strip his clothes off very slowly and seductively and Spencer's going to blow me whilst I watch. Sam's then going to wash… slowly and I'm going to, well I guess that's going to depend on how slowly you undress and how quickly Spencer can get onto his knees. Did I hear you ask for soap?' Sam nodded. 'Good… wash in it. Then we will curl up together and you each have permission to fuck each other if that's what you desire. Coffee? You asked for coffee?'

'Coffee.' Sam held out the half drunk carton of coffee. 'You should have asked for some if you wanted it. But I asked for a pot to boil water in and for coffee grounds too, so we can make some.' Sam pulled his pink mesh top off over his head, tossed it to the side and then turned so his back was to Floyd. By the time he'd finished soaping himself back and front in every position he could manage to contort himself into (and there were quite a good number which looked like Sam could easily go fuck himself) – it was Spencer laying on the bed with his back arched and fingers pulling at Floyd's hair.

Sam looked over at them and sighed. All that washing and playing and stretching for nothing? 'Can I join in?' He muttered, but there was no coherent reply and so he knelt on the floor next to the bed with his elbows resting on the edge of the bed and his chin digging into the mattress between them and watched and heckled… 'I'd not do it like that… use both hands… don't pull right back like that… keep your tongue in contact… snowball, don't swallow, share your love with the man you're blowing… Geez don't you guys know anything? Can I show you how to do that properly? Spencer! Don't… eeww… disgusting! Floyd tongue, always more tongue. I'm going to have to make an educational DVD for the pair of you. You waste so much energy getting a result I could get in seconds. Fucking amateurs.' He still didn't get a response from either of them so he rummaged through Floyd's box and had a look at the chains and manacles and wondered why he'd asked for them and then not bothered using them. 'Fucking weirdo.' Sam dropped them back into the box and then took some of Floyd's rations and had a picnic.

Sam did sleep on the bed. When he woke up in the morning… or at least after the rest period they had, he was on his side with his back to Spencer who in turn had his back tight against the wall. A limp sleepy arm was draped over Sam's shoulders, but he had no memory of getting his butt done that night, not by Spencer or Floyd. He looked around the room and noted Floyd sitting with his back to the door, swigging back on some of the alcohol Spencer had purloined the day before. 'Sensible at every turn.' Sam muttered, got off the bed and went in search for something to clean his teeth with. By the time Spencer was awake and with it, Sam had brushed and cleansed and was standing looking ready for a night out on the tiles – or on his knees maybe.

They walked again side by side. The passageway was cool and somewhere was the thrumming sound of air being cooled and pumped back in again. Spencer commented on how much it reminded him of Floyd's place under the desert and this caused Sam to chuckle slightly. 'I guess if we find an _up_ elevator we'll get to Floyd's hide out. I wonder if my bones are still there. That's a good point actually, if we do…'

'We are not going up. We are going forwards and we are going to do what we were sent here to do. Elevator or not. I'm tired of the constant retreating and backing away. I'm going to do what the fuck it is they want of me and I'm going to do it the _way_ they want me to do it.'

'Fighting some demonic hoard?' Spencer asked.

Floyd stopped walking and hunkered down in the corridor which seemed to have no end. The strip lighting was flickering above their heads. He rested his hands on his knees and let out a long deep breath. 'I wanted back something which was taken from me and I embarked on a journey to prove that I was _sorry_ for what I'd done, though in reality I had no sorrow for the actions I'd taken, but annoyance that those actions were seen as _wrong_. The first few rolls of the dice I messed up. I fell for the temptations placed at my feet.' Floyd scratched at the seam on his leather pants. 'I was given chance after chance. They kept saying to me… _Get it right, Floyd and we'll listen to you,_ but what I didn't understand until really recently was that they're no better than the bastards who were putting obstacles in my path. They're not the shiny loving things which people would like you to believe. They're warriors. They're just as big in the total bastard arena as these guys. So I have to decide… you see? Do I attempt to get back what I'd lost and know I can never fuck again… or do I tell them where to stick there morals – which are there just to piss people off anyway – and stay with the team I'd been leaning towards for some time?'

'So you're giving up?' Sam looked surprised and hunkered down next to Floyd. 'I mean really? You'd fight them rather than try to go back to them? You'll lose the love of The Old Woman. She'll never have you back again. You'll never have the offer of going over the river again. You'll never even _see_ your beloved forest again, let alone step amongst the trees there.'

Spencer also crouched down, but for now didn't say anything.

'Not giving up.'

'Turning his coat.' Spencer said. 'He's going to be a traitor.' The words felt bitter and ugly in Spencer's mouth.

Floyd rubbed at his nose with the back of his hand and nodded slowly. 'What's to do? I don't know of another way forward.'

Sam put a hand on Floyd's knee. 'Little River.' He spoke the two words quietly. 'Just consider it.' Then Sam got up and carried on walking.

Floyd ran after Sam, with Spencer close on his heel. Floyd grabbed Sam by the back of his shiny pants and told him to wait up. 'You know what you're saying?' He hissed at Sam.

Sam waggled fingers around his ears and drew his hand over his eyes. 'Are you insane?' He said to Floyd. 'Are you completely bonkers? Or are you just so full of Spencer's sperm that you cant think straight anymore. I'm just the fucking dog. Don't ask me for an opinion in something which might get me killed.' Sam tugged away from Floyd and jogged on down the corridor.

'What?' Spencer said into Floyd's ear.

Floyd was running his fingers through his hair and taking in long deep breaths of air. 'A way out.' Floyd muttered. 'But not here and not now.' He stroked his fingers down Spencer's arm. You look good in combat pants and I like the shirt.'

Spencer pinged Floyd's sleeve garters. 'I like those too.'

'The three musketeers.' Floyd smiled.

'More like the ninja turtles.' Spencer grinned back.

'There were four of those bastard turtles. Come on, let's get after Sam before he runs off the edge or hell.'

Spencer wanted to know how Floyd knew there were four turtles, but Floyd was already running after Sam… no time to ask. But the idea of Floyd watching that show or reading the comics put a grin on Spencer's face.

The idea though was now in Floyd's mind. Sam had put it there. It'd not occurred to him to do something like Sam had suggested. It proved to Floyd how tired he really was. How much he needed to just put his feet down somewhere and be able to stop there a while. A decade or two, to recharge his flat batteries would be good. A cottage with a beach out front and a forest outback… roses around the door… sounded kinda crappy as his mind played out the images, but that's what he wanted. He needed his boys too though…

But Little River… not the person himself. That's not what Sam was getting at, but the betrayal. The turning of his coat which Spencer had said, but a double turn. It might just work. Sell information to the other side. Get in their good books. Firstly he had to have information worth selling and to do that, he'd likely have to sell himself first. At least it would have to appear that he had.

'Spencer.' He pulled him up close. 'I need you to know something.'

Reid slowed his jog to a walk and the turned to look at Floyd. 'What's wrong?' Spencer was suddenly horribly afraid.

'I might do something which will look as though… well I might… I will, and it will look like I'm the biggest cunt ever made. Will you trust me that I'm doing the right thing? Do you trust me with your life and honour?'

Spencer looked surprised. 'With my life, of course. My honour? I don't understand.' He reached out and grabbed Floyd's hands. 'What are you planning?'

'I'll tell you later. Ears and eyes.' He smiled and kissed Spencer gently on the lips. 'I will do everything I can to get you out of this shit. I will. It's a fucking promise. I will die rather than see you trapped here. I wont let that happen, so please, trust me… go with the flow.'

Slowly Spencer nodded. 'I don't _want_ you to die for me Floyd. Is this some sort of heroic self sacrifice you have planned?'

'No – not even close. But if the shit hits the fan, I'll give my soul… for you.'

'You don't have a soul.' Spencer reminded him.

'But if I did… I would.'

'Whoah! Fuck me sideways and call me Abdul… Shitting hell!' Sam called from out in front of them. 'Come and see what I can see!'


	44. Chapter 44

44

Spencer's jaw dropped as he walked up next to Sam. The passage opened up into something which he could only describe as _impossible_. It looked to him as though a drunken scaffolder had spent an eternity rigging up the most insane construction imaginable. Sam and Floyd had called it a _web_ but the lines of metal bars criss crossing the pit of bubbling popping lava and the spouts of flame seemed less like a web and more like a giant game of Jack Straws, where each layer had been lifted apart from the next.

He couldn't see to the other side of this hellish thing and he could see no way around it. Looking up the rows of mad bars appeared never to end and looking down made his eyes water looking into the fiery rage. Spencer turned around and looked at Floyd who was frowning and digging around in his bag. Sam was walking along the tiny ledge which ran a few yards each side of the opening. Sam had his back to the wall and toes of his boots were hanging over the edge of the small walkway. There was no way that Spencer could walk along that and there would actually be no need to. The ledge narrowed out and disappeared.

'Sam, don't. Come back. It's not safe.' Spencer turned back to look at the insanity facing him. 'What now? We cant cross that.' What he meant was that _he_ refused to even attempt to cross it. He looked up again at the lines of bars above his head and now looking closer he could see things hanging, or suspended from some of them. There were people swaying, hanging by their necks, legs, arms. He could see what he thought at first was some kind of rope to hold onto, but now could see that it was entrails dangling down. There was a rich smell of cooking flesh and sulphur. Spencer didn't think he'd ever get that smell out of his nose again.

Floyd pulled Spencer back a bit and hunkered down. He called Sam back again and called a group meeting. To Spencer this was good. They were going to discuss a way around this. 'Remove your boots and put on the soft walking shoes I told you to request. We cant go over that in boots.'

'Go over it?' Spencer shouted this much louder than he'd intended; he'd meant to keep his cool and was now about to lose it completely.

'There's no other way.' Floyd explained. 'Change your footwear.'

'I'll go barefoot.' Sam said as he started to unlace his boots. 'I find it easier to grip.'

'And if the footing gets hot?' Floyd asked him… genuinely curious.

'Then I run!' Sam laughed. This was no problem for Sam. He could do that easily. Phenomenal balance was one of his talents. He'd offer to show them both how he could walk over there on his hands doing cartwheels, but the arrows would fall out of the quiver.

The idea of running across the bars was ridiculous to Spencer, but Floyd just nodded. 'As you wish. You know best. I advice that Spencer and I change footwear though.' He gave Sam a small _that's my boy_ smile. Floyd then produced manacles and chains. 'This is how you're going to get over.' He passed them to Spencer. 'Don't look so shocked, it's not meant as an insult. I got some for me too. We're not going to end up like those poor buggers.' He pointed upwards towards the things hanging down. 'A manacle on each wrist with the chain looping over the nearest bar to where you're walking. If you slip… you might hurt your shoulders or wrists, but you'll not be down there with your skin boiling off your bones for the rest of your existence.'

'No.' Spencer stood up. 'This is the most ridiculously impossible thing I've ever heard of. We cant cross that. Sam might be able to and good for him, but I'm not going to be able to do it. It's not… it's… I cant! I cant walk on those bars! They're only inches thick. It's not possible to balance on them. They'll be hot! Things… Floyd… I cant do it! And what if it breaks or joins another bar and…'

Floyd leaned forward and put his nose against Spencer's. 'There is no other way across. You will do it. You _can_ do it. The alternative is that I smack you senseless and drag you over. One way or another we are going to cross. It's another test…'

Spencer pushed Floyd away from him and went to have another look. It made him feel sick. It made his head spin and the bars seem to swell and bend… it made his mind scream for a way out. 'Then… you go. I'll stay here. I assume that I'm permitted to make a decision?'

'Assumed wrong Babes. I need you over the other side with me and I know you can do this. It's no different from just walking in a straight line. I know you can do this. It's only a few miles across.'

'A few miles. Well that's OK then! And what's holding it up anyway? How do you know it wont just all collapse?'

'Stop being an idiot. The updraft from the pit keeps it up and level. What else. It wont collapse. Not possible. Now…' Floyd waggled a manacle under Spencer's nose. 'What we are going to do is this; Sam is going to go first. He's the lightest and the most sure footed. He can go across that as easy as crossing a street. So Sam can check for problems.'

'Sure… send forth the sacrificial sheep… onwards into hell… die little slut… I'm going to ruin my silver leather, so if you have no objections I'm going to do this in my skin and jockstrap.'

As if they didn't have enough distractions. 'If that's what you want to do.' Floyd told Sam. 'But no risk taking. No showing off. We both know you're awesome, we don't need you doing miraculous acrobatic feats over the abyss. There's things out there. They glide in the thermal winds. They might attack, so however safe you think you are, Sam, remember that something could upset that balance and peck your eyes out of your head before you even realise that you're falling.'

Sam nodded and began to strip off – and again Sam noted that Floyd and Spencer took little notice of him even though he was being as seductive as he could manage. He guessed standing on the edge of the Abyss was not the most romantic place to be, but surely his body would overwhelm them with desire no matter where they were. Another disappointment.

Spencer stood trying to overcome the shaking which had taken hold of him. He was watching Sam walk out over the abyss, one foot carefully in front of the other and a hand lightly resting on another beam which was about at Sam's head height. It was to this second beam which Floyd had said he'd loop the chain over. It wasn't going to work. No matter how much Spencer tried to convince himself that it could be done, he knew in his pounding panicked heart that this was impossible. Maybe for a few steps, maybe for a few feet he could have done it, but for miles? Just not possible. At some point he would slip. 'How do you know that this chain and these…' He shook a manacle at Floyd, '…wont break if it suddenly has to take my weight.'

Floyd also had a thing around his wrist. He had told Spencer that it was because he wanted to show him that it actually would work and that he had faith in this, but it was also because Floyd didn't think he'd make it all the way across and not slip at least once. He would have liked Sam to have taken a precaution too, but the boy refused. 'You will be holding on to that same beam Sam has there. You wont fall. This is just extra, you know, to reassure you.'

'Reassure me? I need more than this to make me feel good about trying to cross this.'

Floyd had tied the backpacks together and stood there with them at his feet. At Spencer's feet was rough reddish dirt and then a pit leading directly to the very pits of hell. Do not pass go, do not collect fuck all on your way down. Spencer closed his eyes as he felt Floyd move closer and sling the other manacle tied to the other end of the chair over the beam. He actually thought that his heart skipped a beat when that cold metal looped around his wrist. He opened his eyes to see how far along Sam had got and thought how ethereal and odd Sam looked out there walking along the stupidly slender beam virtually naked. 'Just follow Sam.' Floyd spoke as gently as he could. The annoyance he was feeling was pretty well disguised. 'I'll follow you and the bags I'll just slide along between us. Nothing to worry about.'

'Nothing to worry about at all. No. Silly me. I had this odd feeling for a while there that I was tight rope walking over hell.' He put one foot on the beam. 'And if you touch me… well just don't unless you warn me first. I'm apt to scream if you do.'

'I'll only touch you if you're slipping… Now, move.' Floyd's patience over this was beginning to wear thin. What did Spencer expect him to do? Make him a bridge? Teleport him? Floyd was sure that Spencer would get the hang of walking over that thing. It _was_ a shame that there hadn't been an opportunity to practice first but… 'Can you move just a little bit faster? It's only a few fucking miles, not more then five and I'd like to get there by tea time if that's OK with you?'

Spencer had taken a deathly total of five small terrifying steps when Floyd had snapped at him, so close that Spencer had felt the breath on the back of his sweaty neck. He could maybe move faster and die as a result, or at least hang like a lump of meat in a butcher's shop. He glanced up at the things hanging around here and there above his head and now he realised that some of those things weren't swinging around in the thermals but were wriggling and still alive. How long they'd been there he had no idea but not only could he see their flailing arms and swinging feet, but he could also hear their screams and cries for help. 'Oh sh…' Spencer wanted to cry. He wanted to join in with their screams. 'Floyd…'

'Spencer, there's nothing we can do to help them and if we could find a way then what? They will show no gratitude. They're there for a reason. Ignore it and keep going.'

Reid squeezed his eyes shut, but that didn't take away the sounds of the pleading screaming voices crying out for help. It was about another ten minutes of slow crawling steps which a snail could have easily outpaced that the updraft suddenly increased. Spencer still had his eyes closed. It seemed easier that way. If you couldn't see it, then surely it wasn't really there. He'd wake up soon and the abyss would be gone and he would have his arms wrapped around Floyd – or maybe Sam, but either was a dream compared to this horror.

'Stay tight.' Floyd called out… Spencer didn't know what or who he was calling out to, but he stopped his slow sideways walk and took in a deep warm breath of something which stank of old boiled eggs.

'I've got it!' That time it was Sam calling back.

'Fuck no!' Again Floyd.

Spencer felt something brush against the side of his face. He couldn't let go of the beam he was clutching a hold of to see if what it had been or whether it had cut him so he just sort of wedged himself into position and decided that he wasn't going to move even if Floyd offered to use lube in future.

'Fucking winds!' Sam again. 'Really I've got it this time!' And now Spencer heard the sound of an arrow _thwupping_ from Sam's bow.

'Sam stop! You'll lose your balance!' Floyd shouted back.

'It'll die first!' And another arrow. 'See! Fucking… fuck! Motherfucker! That fucking hurt! Die you bastard!' And that sound yet again followed by a whining howling dying sound of something and Floyd shouting out…

'Spencer hold tight!' Oh and he did. He held so tight that he had a good feeling that someone would have to cut his fingers off so that he could move again.

'What happened?' Spencer tried to call out, but it came out as a panicked whine.

'A fucking pterodactyl happened. At least it looked like one. Once there were dinosaurs… I guess this is where they all went. They didn't die out after all!' Sam laughed high and manic. 'Fucker tried to smack me off my perch. Fucking hell.'

Sam was balanced on his toes. The wind was blowing up from the pit below him. He slipped the bow back into the holster and grinned at Spencer who was clutching hold of the beam. This felt good. It felt like this is what he'd been born for. If only Floyd could climb by Spencer and give him something extra… His heart was thumping hard in his chest and there was sweat running down his body and he felt so awesome. He felt like the king of the universe right now. He decided that he wouldn't whore anymore, what he would do was live here on the beams and kill monsters and rescue people.

'Sam!' That was Floyd calling to him. To congratulate him maybe. Sam gave Floyd one of his small salutes which seemed to be something both Sam and Floyd did to signify _thanks _or _goodbye_ or _hello_ or anything really. 'Get moving again. You did good but now get your hands out of your underwear and get going again.'

Spencer saw that small salute again and Sam swivelled on the balls of his feet and began to walk off again. Now Floyd was nagging Spencer to keep moving. Spencer stood unmoving, grinding his teeth and wishing he had a mug of hot coffee to take the edge off things. 'Think of it like this.' Floyd said. 'We've walked maybe 200 feet already, what's that in percentage of five miles?'

'Ask Sam, he's the math wizard; I cant think beyond what just happened.' Spencer moaned.

'OK, understood, now please move your feet, and just think that it might not be as far as five. It might only be three miles!'

Such soothing words from Floyd, but they didn't seem to be un-sticking Spencer's fingers which were as good as welded to the beam. 'I don't know if I can move.' Spencer whispered.

Floyd's mouth went to a tight irritated line. Spencer was being a right girls blouse over this shit. 'One finger at a time Babes. Just take it easy but really does it matter if you fall now or a mile down the way? You'll die either way and so you might as well get some exercise in before hand. Come… move!'

Spencer did as he was instructed and whether Floyd knew it would work or not, slowly Spencer unhinged his fingers and moved them and then just as slowly his feet followed.

Over the course of probably the next hour, Spencer lost his footing three times. That was a lot better than Floyd thought he'd manage, but still it slowed them down horribly as after each slip Spencer needed a lot of _encouragement_ to get going again. 'You're doing good, Babes.' Floyd kept up the chant until Spencer asked him to please be quiet. Sam also let of a few more arrows but nothing got as close to them as the first thing which had swooped out of nowhere and tried to dislodge them.

The biggest problem Spencer was having, was that his hands were held at around shoulder height and he couldn't get them away from the beam they were attached to via the chain and manacles to wipe off the sweat. His hands were getting more and more slippery and his back ached. He would have loved to have let go with one hand and pressed it against the small of his back to give some relief, but he couldn't. His shoulders ached, the muscles in his legs occasionally went into small cramped spasms, but he kept all of this information to himself. Now the updraft had increased, the screaming howling voices were louder, the bodies hanging above and below them were becoming more and more frequent, and the live people who sometimes called out for help and were ignored by the three of them were seeping deeper into Spencer's mind. They _were_ as a whole, though, moving faster. At least it felt as though they were. The end of this nightmare was still not in sight, but Spencer was telling himself now that they were over half way there. They _had_ to be, because if not he didn't think he'd reach where they were going.

About another half hour later things went very wrong. It started with a sound which reminded Spencer of a crow. A giant crow maybe. He looked around to see where the sound was coming from and saw a dark shadow moving up from below. Thankfully it didn't seem to be heading for Spencer. He let out a sigh of relief and even rested his head for a moment on the beam between his hands.

'Sam!' Floyd shouted from one side of Spencer.

'Fuck!' Sam yelled in reply… and then a scream which wasn't just down the beam where Sam had been standing but now moving away above him. It was a long drawn out howl and a load of arrows fell over Spencer as though they had been dropped down. Spencer didn't move. Not because he didn't want to move, because he _did_, but because his body went into a ridged panic. Every muscle in his body seized tight. It wasn't even possible to open his eyes. At least that was what he would say if asked. It was how it felt. The fear ripped through him so hard and fast that for a moment Spencer thought that his heart had stopped.

'Hold on!' Floyd was shouting, but Spencer didn't think he was shouting at him, and now the quieter voice in his ear confirmed that. 'Don't fucking move. Stay there. Just stay where you are. I'll be back.'

'Back?' Spencer unlocked the muscles in his neck so that he could turn to look at Floyd, who to Spencer's horror was ripping off the manacles and leaving them dangling over the beam.

'Yeah – promise.' Then Floyd had pulled himself up onto the beam Spencer was holding onto and climbing upwards towards where Sam was still screaming… no words… just a long terrified scream.

Sam had felt it come for him. He heard the chattering of the beak the creature had and could smell its stink arriving. He managed actually to get off one shot, but the thing twisted fast out of the way and circled around back. He heard somewhere Floyd call his name and he thought in reply he'd screamed 'Fuck!' but he wasn't sure of that. He was very sure that his feet were no longer on the beam and he was sure that he was going upwards, being lifted by the strap holding his bow holster on his back. He couldn't see anything because he'd decided that he didn't want to see himself die and so had his eyes closed tight, but he knew that he was upside down and he heard his arrows sliding out of the quiver. The bow was still in this hand though, but the idea of dropping it didn't cross his mind. He screamed. Yes, he remembered that he screamed and he remembered that something felt like it sliced across his middle. Whatever it was carrying him had smacked him against a beam and now he was all arms and legs holding on as tightly as he could. The creature had let go. Had it wanted to see him fall to his death? Sam didn't know or care really, what he did know was that he was bleeding, he was holding on to a beam with his legs and arms and thank the gods of the abyss, he still had his bow and he used it to blindly flail it around keeping anything away… and the scream seemed to be carrying on. Sam didn't think he'd actually taken a breath.

'Hold on!' That was Floyd shouting at him. Oh he had no intention of letting go! What an arse… of course he was going to hold on. It felt like his insides were sliding out… it felt as though he'd broken every bone in his body. He wasn't going to let go! He was going to stay here screaming with all the other half dead things.

Floyd wanted to give Spencer a quick grope and a kiss, but Sam was still howling like a banshee and he thought really that he should go and sort that out first. He hoped he'd not regret his decision. He bounced up onto the beam which Spencer was holding so tightly onto. 'Just don't for anything forget that I love you.' He'd not meant to say that. He'd meant to say 'Don't move.' But the words came out all wrong and fucked up. He looked at the top of Spencer's head and then up at a wriggling flailing Sam. 'Just don't forget.' He said again. 'I'd… I'd stay… but…'

'Go. Hurry!' Spencer whimpered back.

Floyd hesitated. He waited for maybe five seconds. He wanted to hear Spencer say that he loved him too, but he didn't. Floyd took a deep breath and considered kicking the selfish fuck off the beam and decided to go get Sam first. Incriminations could wait. 'I'm on my way Sam!' And off he went, acting like this wasn't actually scaring the living shit out of him, climbing up onto the beam and then reaching out for the next and pulling himself up onto that, each time taking him further away from the man he loved and who didn't love him in return. Sam was four layers up and Floyd could see he was bleeding a long time before he got there. Sam's screams had taken on a very hoarse rough sound now.

'I'm here.' Floyd gently put a hand on Sam leg. He didn't want him to jump with the shock of something touching him. 'It's OK. We'll climb down together.'

'My guts are hanging out.' Sam informed him.

Floyd looked at the place just above Sam's belly button where the blood was coming from, but already the flow had slowed. 'It just feels like they are, but it's just a flesh wound. Untangle yourself and grab hold of me. I'll get you back down again.'

'Leave me.' Sam used the most pathetic voice he could muster and he thought he'd done quite well.

Floyd had no intention of leaving him, but also had no idea how he'd get him back down again if Sam couldn't manage it himself. He glanced down at Spencer who was still standing as he'd left him. 'Climb onto my back; hold tight.'

'I cant move.' Another wonderful pathetic voice.

'Ya gonna havta. I cant leave Spencer there for too long. He'd unprotected if something comes back. Come on now! Be a brave bunny and climb onto my back.'

'I cant!'

'Well you're going to fucking well have to! What do you want me to do? Summon up a fucking magic carpet for you? Untangle your fucking arms and legs and get on my back. For the love of fuck… quickly! I'ma gonna fall and you wont want that on your conscience for eternity.'

Sam moved slowly. He'd stopped the howling now and started long bubbly sobs. The person who had been walking along the narrow beams like the hell bound warrior he liked to think he was, was now a blubbing snotty brat again.

Spencer's mistake at that point was to move. It wasn't really much of a move either, as all he did was to look up and around to see where Floyd and Sam were. It was enough though to completely rock his balance and when he lifted a foot to find better purchase he lost his footing completely. Spencer knew that he let out a yelp of panic. He hadn't wanted to, but now everything seemed to be going very wrong at the same time. The foot which was still resting on the beam started to slip. He moved his body to try to get back to where he was before and banged his head on the beam he was holding onto. This resulted in the automatic response of moving his hands to try to get a better grip, but his hands were hot and sweaty and the grip which he'd had was suddenly gone. The beam under his feet disappeared as he suddenly dropped a few inches and now Spencer was screaming as he swung by his wrists under the beam he'd been holding.

He could hear metal on metal grinding and scraping as he let out one more howl and then kicked back with his legs trying to find where he'd been standing. At the same time he was trying to reach up with one hand to grab the other beam, but the weight on the chain just pulled his hands around and out of reach… unless he really pulled down on his left hand and let the chain slip upwards and he could grab with his right. Spencer tried… but doing that caused his whole body to swing around and the tentative hold he hand with his toes was gone as he was ripped out of reach again… and there was the problem with the sweat and the feeling that the manacles where going to slip right over his hands. And obviously the increased panic was causing an increased flow of sweat. 'Oh shit!' A very rare curse word from Spencer which got Floyd's attention immediately and oddly enough Sam's too.

'Go help him.' Sam muttered. He was now sitting on a beam with his hands holding on either side and inspecting his stomach. 'Look I've been virtually raped by a demonic dinosaur and I've survived it. Go help the fool… he's going to swing himself right off into the abyss if he's not careful and I'll kind of miss feeling his eyes boring into my arse.'

Floyd wasn't happy about leaving Sam though. 'I'm not happy about leaving you.' He told him. 'You, please don't try to get down. Just stay fucking put. I'll go and rebalance Spence and then come back for you. You're going to be OK.'

Sam put out a hand and ran fingers down the side of Floyd's face. 'I'm going to shit myself in terror. Please hurry up. I'm not fucking with you. I want to get down there… and I'm too fucking scared to move.'

Great. Fucking awesome! Floyd stood and smiled at Sam… grimaced at Sam maybe was a better description. 'Just… just stay.'

'Like a good dog.' Sam put his hand back on the beam. 'Hurry the fuck up. I feel like a maggot on a hook here.'

Floyd moved down again swiftly. It was easy when you're heart was pounding so hard it was visible through his frilly shirt. It was also easier with adrenaline doing half the work for him. What bothered him was what was going to happen when the adrenaline stopped pumping and the shakes kicked in. He went fast though. Almost like he was actually enjoying what he was doing. He dropped down onto the beam Spencer was dangling from and then onto the next one down, with one hand holding the beam now that Spencer was swinging from, he grabbed Spencer by the back of his combat pants. 'I've got you Babes. Just calm down. Move your right foot back. You're only inches away. Good… now the other foot, yes I know you're not holding on. I'll sort that next. They cant slip off, not possible. Your hands are far too manly and big for that. Now lean on me and move one of your hands up. I've got you. You're not going to fall.'

'Thank you.' Spencer moaned as at last his hands were gripping the beam again.

'No need. Cant have you falling when we've come so far. Now… please just don't move. Not a fucking muscle.'

'You're going again?'

'I'll be back. I came back this time huh? Sam need some help too. He's hurt, but OK… I just need to be with him and give him some help.'

'We're all going to die here.' Spencer predicted.

'No. We're not. I have an appointment to see a general at the camp. Cant possibly die here. Stay put and give me five minutes. Count it if you wish… count me.'

'One.' Spencer said. 'Two… three.'

Floyd took his leave and moved back up again. His arms were trembling now. Not a good sign. Once back up with Sam again he did as Sam was doing and just sat on the beam for a while and held on tight.

'You know that without you we'd be dead long ago, don't you? You're fucking amazing and I'm one proud mother fucking dog owner. I just need you to know that.'

'You're just saying that.' Sam whined. 'You're just trying to make me feel better about how I'm feeling right now.'

'Maybe I am, nevertheless it's true. We cant carry on without your skills anymore than you could carry on without mine.'

Sam sniffed and carefully lifted a hand off the beam to wipe at his eyes. 'You have skills?' He asked.

'I'm hoping you're joshing with me kiddo, cos I could just tip you off your arse and into hell.'

'I didn't understand why those people were up there hanging by limbs when they could have climbed up and got out of their mess. I understand it now though. This is hopeless. There's no point in carrying on, Floyd. Really I mean it. What the fuck is the point in it? So we can be assigned a place to go and die? Why cant I choose that place to be here?'

'No one's going to die. Not when I'm in charge of events. Now we need to move down. Either on your own or on my back…' _Please not on my back… please… let him manage this alone! _

'I'll go it alone. Just stay with me.' Sam gave Floyd a wane smile and slipped down to the next beam.

Once back together and with them all exhausted and somewhat alarmed over how quickly everything hand gone horribly wrong they stood, holding on for grim death, saying nothing for maybe fifteen minutes. It was Spencer who spoke first. 'Sam, you're OK?'

Sam turned his head and looked at Spencer. 'I'm never going to be the same again, but yeah, I'll be OK. You?'

'Had a bit of a fright, but yes, I'm good.'

'I'm going to be OK too.' Floyd added. 'But we need to get going again. Sam first again, but please for the gods, hold onto something.'

'Damned right I'm going to hold on! Gimme some of those manacles. My arrows are all gone now anyway, and I don't fancy being plucked from the beam again.'


	45. Chapter 45

45

They moved faster now. Sam though kept much closer to the other two. He really didn't want to be pulled off his perch again. The manacles looped over the beam helped him to feel more secure. The fright Spencer had experienced just made him want to get off and away faster. Floyd could see things below them in the smoky red and orange light, things swirling and sweeping around; dark shapes using the thermal winds and the uplift from the heat of what looked to be the open sore of a volcano. Occasionally they would get almost close enough for Floyd to smell them. Disgusting deformed creatures, open wounds seeping pus and blood on the dry hair and featherless skins. They seemed to have dark painful holes where their eyes used to be, but those beaks still could do a lot of damage. Most of them were about the size of a gull. Nothing they could bat away if they had to. Floyd just didn't want all the histrionics of someone slipping again. He didn't want to hear Sam's screams or Spencer's either… most of all he didn't want to hear his own.

'I can see the end!' Sam called out. 'I can see it! We're nearly there… another hour maybe?'

Floyd let out a sigh of relief… Spencer stopped and looked too. He could see just a pin-prick of light ahead. A clean light. Something which almost looked like daylight, but Spencer knew it wasn't. There was one place where a rope was looped over the beam they were walking over. Sam warned Spencer who in turn told Floyd. They stepped over it easily. Sam had regained his former balance and arrogance over his ability and had started again to move up ahead, but was still less than ten foot away from Spencer. Reid stepped over the rope and moved up to join Sam. Floyd looked down, one foot either side of the rope and stared into the filmy dead looking eyes of a fair haired young man.

'Help me!' A hand rose from the side of this person. He was hanging by his neck, too far down to reach.

Floyd blinked at the thing which should have been dead. 'I cant. It's not my place to give succour to those who have been damned.'

'Please help me!' A black rotting tongue slipped from the young man's mouth and licked at cracked bleeding lips.

'I'm serving my punishment for my crimes. I think you need to serve yours too.' Floyd stepped over the rope and made to leave.

'But I didn't do anything. I didn't…'

Floyd stopped and looked back down at the rotting face looking up at him. 'If that's what you say, then I believe you. There's no place for every good soul in their delusional paradise, but there's plenty off room down here for all. You batted for the wrong team sonny. Not my fault and not my place to free you.'

'And you?'

'I also did a try out for the wrong team. I got delegated to the opposition. If something better is there and if you're innocent then that something will come for you. That _something_ isn't me.'

'Just cut the rope! I beg you! Let me die.'

Floyd shook his head and then looked over at Spencer and Sam. 'I cant do that.' He then moved quickly towards Spencer who was giving Floyd his _now what?_ face.

o-o-o

They stepped out onto the ledge with so much pleasure and grace that Sam threw himself to the floor and kissed the reddish coloured ground. Floyd would happily have joined him in the celebration but he didn't want it to look as though he had been as freaked by the walk along the beams as he had been. He needed to stay in control. Spencer just looked around himself taking in what was beyond the small exit from the beams and now… well it really did seem as though they were outside, but he knew that was just the relief of being on solid ground again. Everything here had a reddish hue to it. Even the air seemed a yellowy orange colour, as though it was clogged with desert sand. This meant that any chance of seeing a good long distance was cancelled for the duration, but he didn't have to be able to see too far to spot the thing sitting behind a desk which looked as though it had been carved out of the rock. In front of him there was a large ledger and to the side a computer screen which had a clear plastic bag over the top of it. There was also an electric fan on the desk which had fancy demonic faces carved into the side facing them. The thing which was almost but not quite human looking gestured for them to step forwards. They each picked up their bags and walked with some small hesitation towards what Spencer thought was maybe the underworld equivalent of St. Peter.

_Onnor_.

The word was etched onto a name place sitting on the desk. Spencer didn't know if that was a name or a position. He thought maybe it was both. Under the word was a line of swirls and squiggles… Spencer also guessed that it was the translation of the word above it.

'Don't step over the line.' Onnor's voice was not much more of a growl.

They all looked down, but there was no line to be seen. Each of the three walked in a small circle looking at their feet. Floyd looked up and shrugged. 'What line?'

Onnor got up out of his dark stone chair, swished his long tail which looked as though it was armour plated and he walked on those odd backward legs with cloven hooves at the end of them. He looked down at the floor and then up at Floyd. 'Fuckers must of nicked it. No matter. Just stand there.' He clipped and clopped back to his desk and sat down again. 'Names.' He now said and pulled the bag off the top of the monitor and pulled a keyboard in front of him. 'Technology.' He tapped at the keys. 'So much easier than looking through a book, but not as… well the book on the desk has a certain look about it. More what you'd expect. Fucking useless though. Names?' He asked again.

'Flanders.' Floyd said.

Onnor typed in the name and then looked up. 'Which one. I've about twenty million things with that name.' He then pushed the keyboard slightly to the side and gave Floyd a closer look. 'Step forwards, liar. I need to see you closer.'

Floyd looked confused, Sam grinned and Spencer just stared off into the impossible distance. 'You call me a liar?'

'Well I do. You going to argue with me? What's your name?'

Sam's grin broadened but he said nothing. Floyd looked at Spencer who didn't seem to be paying much attention so he stepped up so that he could place his hands on the desk, moved the keyboard around and typed something in. He then pressed _enter_ and pushed the keyboard back to Onnor.

'Isgar-Quenell.' Onnor muttered. 'In that case we have been awaiting your arrival.'

Floyd looked slightly surprised. 'You have?' Now Sam and Spencer were both looking at Floyd with great curiosity.

'No… no. It was humour. I don't get to talk to many arseholes; thought you'd enjoy the joke. Why would someone be waiting for you? You think you deserve such. Little man, you are going to be on your knees like the maggot you are before the hour is out. Name your dogs. I don't have an eternity to sit here. I have other things I can be doing. Prisoners need to be released… and eaten.' There was no sign that this was a joke too, so Floyd didn't bother laughing.

'This is my dog Sam Trent-Saviour and my medic Dr Reid.'

'No… no no no… I'm not going to sit here and listen to your fantasy. You will give me their names or you can just go back where you just fucking well came from and hang there for an eternity thinking about it. No more lies Quenell or your feet wont touch the fucking ground. Playtime is over.' He beckoned Sam forwards. 'You can speak, earth licking maggot?'

Sam nodded, but said nothing.

'Then you can tell me your name? You can speak this lingo or do I need to get a translator in?'

'I understand your question, I just don't know the answer.' Sam muttered.

Onnor nodded. 'Well when the great and wonderful Isgar-Quenell spat you out of him like the lump of dirty perverted shit you are he gave you a name. It wasn't for fuck – Sam, and the Trent-Saviour bit aint part of it either, so what's ya name dog? Your given name, not some fucked up imaginary lump of chod that you like the sound of?'

'Samsaweel.' Floyd said with a great tone of reluctance.

'Well, there, finally we are getting somewhere. Naming your dog after something so magnificent is rather stupid, don't you think?'

'I call him Sam.' Floyd used a surly tone. This creature was really beginning to bug him.

Now Spencer was being spoken to. 'And you… you know your name?'

'I'm Doctor Spencer Reid.' He spoke in a distant voice of someone not really listening.

A few more keys were clattered and Onnor looked up at the trio. 'Isgar-Quenell, Samsaweel and Dr Reid, you need to report to base green. Take the main road, right hand fork. Advise you not to talk to anyone. Don't fail now you're nearly there. There are signs posted, look out for them if you get lost. Have a good day.' Onnor pulled the bag back over the monitor. Spencer wondered if it was to protect it from all the dust. If so, it wasn't going to work.

Sam pulled his fancy kit back on, and they all took time to change footwear and have a drink. Onnor was ignoring them now and going through the book. Spencer thought it was to look for their names and he wondered how long his name had been down in The Book of Hell, as he'd started to think of it.

'Isgar-Quenell and Samsaweel?' Spencer questioned as soon as they were out of sight. Floyd had his sword again at his side and Sam had strapped on his dagger again. 'Isgar -Quenell?' Spencer muttered again, shaking his head.

'The style of names changes over the ages. I can hardly go around being called Isgar-Quenell in your so called modern age. I've not been called that for a long old time. It's bad enough being _Floyd_… thought it a cool name at first. Now it seems to be reserved for Welsh nerds and I'm neither. Not that it matters, a name is just a name. Call yourself what suits. Isgar no longer suited, but yes, unfortunately that was my original name. Not even The Old Woman calls me that now.'

'I rather like it actually. Samsaweel? Why do I know that name?'

Sam answered Spencer's question. 'It's the name of a fallen angel. It's why I am so good with stellar calculations and stuff. They are all suns you see?'

Spencer didn't see, but it didn't matter. What mattered more now was this place there were now in. It looked like a third world refugee camp on an enormous scale. The ground was hard-packed sand. The buildings were tents made of some kind of black leathery looking stuff. Spencer realised later that it was actually ebony black skin. The tents were rigged up like long black cans buried in the bedrock. The semicircle opening for each was about seven foot high and probably could sleep half a dozen. There were larger places too and some much smaller, but for the best part that's what was here. The road or pathways were marked out by lengths of bone stuck into the ground, it was like some very grim and fancy Halloween fence. There were people everywhere. Some, like Spencer, seemed to be normal people from up top. Or maybe they were like Floyd and only appeared to be that way so that they could fit in easier with what they'd been doing.

Sam saw that some creatures were tied up with collars of manacles outside the long curved tents. Some of them had bones they'd been chewing on and some had bowls of water. For Sam this scene didn't bode well. He was marked as a _dog_ and would probably get treated like one. He needed urgently to discuss this with Floyd, but someone ran in front of them holding up shiny stones.

'I'll swap one for a grope.' The scabby creature announced.

Spencer walked around the thing and towards where a sign had been stuck into the ground. There was a green arrow painted on it and he assumed that was the direction they needed to go in. He coughed up some yellowy coloured phlegm and spat onto the side of the pathway. He wanted to hurry and get out of the open and into cover, but Sam seemed now to be in negotiations with a pimply skinny thing with sores over his back. It looked to Spencer like some kind of radiation burning or poisoning and this idea made Spencer cough and sneeze and his eyes started to water.

'You want to grope me, or you're offering to let me grope you?' Sam walked toward the thing who was wearing nothing but a dirty clout. Sam thought it was likely human, or maybe once had been.

'Offering this.' He put a hand out with a blue twinkley stone resting in it. This person who was of an age which could have been anything between ten and twenty, if it was human, was losing chunks of hair. Sam could see that a good few of his teeth were missing and those left were black and rotting lumps. One of his eyes was just a clean clear white, the other had a blue iris which was virtually eaten away by the huge size of his pupil. 'If you let me touch your dick and balls.'

Sam snatched the stone from the hand… he tired not to touch the skin of this person. It looked like he was missing the tips of his fingers. His face was covered in what looked to be horribly infected acne. You could almost hear the huge yellow and green lumps pulsating with the beat of his heart. A couple of them popped and oozed down this person's face.

'We don't have time for this shit.' Floyd grabbed at Sam's hand. How could he possibly want that thing touching him? Floyd just didn't understand Sam sometimes.

'I've time. I'll catch up.' Sam passed the stone to Floyd. 'There… look after that.' With his other hand Sam was loosening his belt. 'You got a name?' He asked.

'Steppen.' He licked his red swollen lips and smiled. Some more of the sores on his face started to leak as the skin stretched. 'You want to touch what's left of my cock? The syph ate the most of it.'

Sam paused with his hand over the front of his beautiful silver trousers. 'The syph? You clean now?'

'Clean as a shit in a midden. What do you expect?'

Sam grabbed Steppen's hand and shoved it down the front of his pants. 'Infect me and I'll come back and remove what's left of your dinky-dick… get me?'

'Yeah, well Chlamydia boy, goes both ways no?'

Sam wanted to slap the punk across the face… he looked up at Floyd who was slowly walking away, backwards. He saw Floyd mouth the word _Chlamydia_ and put a question on the end of it somehow… Again the urge to slap the thing playing with his livelihood made his hands twitch at his side, but he'd end up getting pus and goo all over his hands if he did that.

'I don't have bloody Chlamydia.' Sam snarled. 'Hurry up and do that will you?'

'Better have Chalm than the syph, don't ya think? All done… pretty boy. I'll have more of ya… when you start to rot you'll come back for more. I'll fuck and be fucked by anything. Rotting to my bones. What's gonna hurt me now huh? Go run to your friends pretty fuck… I'm gonna go dream of using you as my cunt. If but I had a dick to ram you with… I can use a stick!'

Sam turned and scuttled back over to Floyd. 'I'm not infected.' Sam snapped.

'You _weren't_. Fuck knows what that thing just gave you.'

'Said he was clean… didn't he? Isnt that what he meant?'

Floyd wrapped an arm around Sam's shoulder. 'No… that's _not_ what he meant. Let's catch up with Spencer now… he seems to have found something. And no more delays. Did you actually get any satisfaction out of that?' Floyd thumbed over his shoulder and then passed the stone back to Sam, who was shaking his head.

'Didn't even get hard, but Steppen wanted it.' Sam shrugged again. 'I should have gotten hard though. I should. Usually taking a piss makes me hard if I touch myself.'

'Might have been the stink of rotting flesh which put you off.'

Sam agreed. It could well have been that. He hoped it was that. He picked at the cut on his stomach and inwardly cried that he'd failed to perform as he should. He took very little interest in a sign with a green painted arrow on it. Spencer though seemed happy with his find. He seemed oddly content actually… and that was something Floyd was finding worrying.

'So, what's going on in that beautiful head of yours?' Floyd wrapped an arm around Spencer's waist and tucked his fingers under the waistband of Spencer's super sexy combat pants.

Spencer sighed and looked again at the sign. 'Green base is this way.' He went to take a step but was held firmly in place by Floyd.

'Now, that's not what I asked is it?'

'It's not what you asked, but you don't want to know what's going on in my head.'

'Wouldn't have asked had I not wanted to know. Tell me. Tell Floyd… or Isgar if that does you better.'

'If I start to talk about how I'm feeling, I will start to scream and I don't think I'll be able to stop again. Can we please just leave it like that for now – Isgar-Quenell.' Spencer didn't add that he thought Floyd's name sounded like a German dumpling. He thought it best not to and wondered if that was partly the reason he changed his name to something really rather… pathetic.

'My old name bothers you?'

'Not even slightly. I don't know why I even assumed you'd been created with a name like Floyd.' Spencer shrugged. 'I said I'm not ready to talk about things yet, but this place… It's vast… and there're so many sick people. I was expecting a military compound. This is more like the waste; the leftovers or the casualties. That thing who conducted business with Sam – that looked like radiation or some sort of poisoning.'

'Or Venereal Disease mayhap? This is just a staging post, Spencer. We will be given orders when we reach that green base and we're never going to reach it if we stand here talking, however I don't want you to suddenly crack up under the strain. If you need to scream and get it out of your system, now might be a good time to do it.'

Spencer shook his head. Sam was already walking off down the path the arrow had pointed to. 'He's going to get himself or us killed.'

'I'll kill him before it comes to that.' Floyd unwrapped his hand from Spencer. 'Come on… we can at least look at his fine silvery arse and get some pleasure before the shit hits the fan.'

o-o-o

YOU ARE AT POINT C.

ALL DOGS TO BE KEPT ON A LEASH.

ABSOLUTELY NOW FOULING.

STRAY DOGS WILL BE DESTROYED WITHOUT TRIAL.

NO WEAPONS ALLOWED BEYOND POINT B.

WEAPON LOCKERS AVAILABLE UPON REQUEST.

NO DOGS PERMITTED BEYOND POINT B. PLEASE TAKE DOGS TO COMPOUND A.

ABSOLUTELY NO UN-NEUTERED DOGS PERMITTED BEYOND THIS POINT.

It was painted in red on a white board on the gate they were standing in front of. Sam's mouth was doing a small 'o' shape as they read the list off. Each line of instructions or orders had a row of symbols below it. Spencer wondered if Floyd's natural instinct was to read the English lettering or the one under it. He might ask him one day, but not right now. Right now Sam was about to have heart failure and Floyd was attempting to talk him round.

'Neutering might not be so bad.' Floyd tried this first. 'OK… then you're not my dog.' That seemed to calm Sam for a very short while. 'It's going to be fine! I'll not let anyone do that to you.'

'I cant go in there! I cant do it! I'll stay here. I just cant risk that they'll think I'm a dog if I'm not, but I thought I was. What if they ask me and smell my lies? I cant!'

'You are my weapon. Remember? You're what I use to protect myself with and you double up as a warm place to insert my cock when I'm feeling like a bit of comfort.'

Sam was shaking his head. 'I dunno. I really don't know. I thought being attacked by that thing over the pit was bad, but this? This? It's just too horrific to think about.' Sam slipped a hand down the front of his pants and held on to what he found so precious. 'And it says no weapons too, so either way I'll not be allowed in. I can have my balls removed and go to compound A or I can sit in a weapon locker. Great. Fucking fantastic. NO wonder Steppen was out there wandering around. It's that or have your knackers chopped off.'

Spencer pushed open the gate. They could clearly see beyond and the track they'd been walking along just carried on, there were armed men in here though and they seemed to be in uniform. Black pants, tight red jacket with a double row of red buttons and a green insignia of some kind on the left breast and large guns at their sides.

'Well fuck.' Floyd groaned. It wasn't just the guns he was groaning about and not even just the uniforms, but the red jackets. He had a very deep hatred for uniforms comprising of red jackets and shiny buttons. 'Some things are sent to try us.' He walked forwards with Sam walking on his left and Spencer on his right. 'I'm going to try real fucking hard not to lose the small amount of cool I still feel I have, but don't be surprise if I start killing people.' And they did seem to be human looking things here. No cloven feet, all legs seemed to be facing the correct way and no cloven hooves either. It was a simple pleasure for Spencer, Sam didn't care as his mind was firmly on his balls, but Floyd found this increasingly unsettling. Not that an army base in hell _should_ feel good.

The next gate had a row of old wooden boxes in front of it and two men wielding some kind of ancient black powder gun. They looked like they belonged in the English Civil war not here. Surely if they had computers they could find a few missiles and flame throwers? The taller of the two grunts pointed at one of the large boxes. 'Put your things in there. Why's the dog running free?' He then pointed to Sam.

'That's not a dog.' Floyd snapped back. 'Are these secure?'

'Nope.'

'Then I'm not putting my things in there.'

'Then you don't go through the gate. Tie the fucking mutt up before I put a round between its ugly eyes.'

Floyd started to shoulder off his bag to put it in the box. 'So anyone can come take my shit?'

'Nope.' That seemed to be a good enough answer. Floyd dropped his bag into the box. It was followed by Sam's and then Spencer's. 'Still cant let you walk around with a dog like that. Didn't you read the warnings? Is it neutered?'

Sam stepped forwards. 'I'm not his dog. No I'm not neutered and nor am I going to be. I'm a warrior. I fight. That's what I do. I'm not a fucking dog and I resent being called one.'

'A camp whore? You shouldn't be here.'

'I'm not a whore!' Sam exclaimed. He honestly sounded affronted by the accusation.

The soldier lost interest in Sam though and now turned to Spencer. 'What the fuck are you?'

'I'm a medic.' Spencer patted the medical belt he had on.

'Take that shit off and place it in the box. You cant take poisons through there either.' As Spencer nodded and began to unbuckle he turned back to Floyd. 'I know that is a whore. It might deny it, but it stinks of boy sweat and soap, and it's dressed like a slut, so I suggest you tell it to keep it's dirty little mouth shut and behave like it's had some kind of weapons training or it's going to be dead before you can blink. Really it's more than my job's worth to let you through with that thing.'

'Are you going to try to stop me?' Floyd pulled himself up to his great height of five foot ten. The man looked down his nose at Floyd and shook his head.

'Change your fucking attitude before you put a uniform on. Just warning you. Act like that in uniform and you're target practice.' He pulled the gates open. 'Get out of my fucking sight, all three of you. Don't want to see your scrawny arses again until you're legit.'


	46. Chapter 46

46

They now stood in front of a long desk with four gents in lovely red jackets sitting behind it. Floyd went down on one knee and placed the tips of his fingers onto the floor in front of him. Spencer followed quickly, Sam was in less of a rush to appear subjugated in front of these jowly late to middle aged bastards.

They wanted their names and once again Floyd was told that when here he would go by his given name and not by some shit he'd made up many years ago when running away. Isgar-Quenell was going to have to be his name at least until he could get the hell out of this place and back to normality again. An idea which was becoming more and more desirable and less and less likely. Samsaweel was the name they wanted from Sam and though he muttered it to his fingers, he wasn't really all that bothered by it. It was now that they turned their attention to Spencer.

'We have it on record that Samsaweel, Quenell and your good self are bonded?' Spencer gave a small nod. 'We are also informed that you are the holder of the mark. We would like to see that.' Spencer didn't move.

'Sir, it is on my right shoulder-blade. I will have to get up and turn my back to you for you to be able to see it.'

'No, you have no need to move _Doctor Reid_. I will send someone around to check up on that. You just stay right where you are. So, you are a doctor and are serving as a battle field medic?'

'Correct.' Spencer mumbled, though he dreaded the idea of actually putting this into practice. He didn't think that'd he'd do awfully well trying to treat creatures with too many eyes or legs, when he didn't even know how to treat things which looked like him! He now felt hot dry hands lifting up his shirt at the back and then a finger moving over the scar on his back. It made Spencer feel sick to have someone touching him. This sort of thing, the lifting of his shirt, the gentle hot touches, usually ended up with Spencer on his knees (which he was already) in some grubby nightclub. That didn't happen this time though. Spencer had been ready for it! His muscles had tensed up ready to fight the thing off him, but the shirt was pulled down and the man type thing went and sat behind the desk again.

'Isgar-Quenell, Samsaweel and Spencer… the names are clearly marked.' This person's voice was much too high pitched. It made Spencer's ear drums hurt.

'As you are master and bondsmen I am inclined to keep the three of you together, but I'm confused as to exactly what Samsaweel is. Care to elucidate, Quenell? You may stand and state your case.'

Slowly Floyd got to his feet. His plan to insert himself as an insurgent and pilfer plans which he would then sell to the other side seemed not such a bright idea now. 'I call him Sam.' He firstly let them know. He didn't want Sam to start thinking that they were all going to call him this other name… not now, not fucking ever! 'He is my main form of defence. He is my weapon.'

They were looking blank. 'You throw him at the enemy?' One of the four asked.

'No, sir. He uses bow. A great marksman. A trained and tried warrior. He is field tested. With the knowledge that he is my bondsman and is sworn to cleave to me firstly, I know that he's never going to go against my orders. He stands tight. He's completely loyal.'

One of the four stood and walked to the front. He grabbed Sam by the hair and told him to stand. Sam using the little sense he had didn't moan or bitch or whine or make eye contact. 'Why is he dressed like a whore?'

'Sir, it's just clothing. It means nothing. He's a warrior first. Clothes were lost during one of the trials on the way here. This was all that we could find.' Floyd tried to speed things forwards, then back peddle and then just say nothing and let them decide.

'We disapprove, quite strongly, with queers, fags, arse-bandits – homos… whatever it is you want to call them. We string them up and wrap their entrails around their necks. We tear off their genitals and either stuff them down their dirty disgusting throats or we throw them to the starving wasted dogs. So, you are going to stand there Quenell and you're going to tell me that this thing isn't your cock candy?'

Floyd's throat went dry. He slowly licked his lips and shook his head. 'Not at all.'

'You know what will happen to you if it's found that you're fucking these lads arses, don't you?'

'I got a very good picture of that, sir.'

'Are we going to picnic under your disgusting corpse and watch the flies puking and shitting on your guts?'

'I would hope not. That's not the reason I came here.'

The soldier pushed Sam back out of the way. 'You are here, Isgar-Quenell because you are an arse buggering sodomite who was thrown out of where he should have been, prancing around in a white frock and dancing with the woodland creatures. Couldn't keep your disgusting body parts out of them though, could you? So don't you even think about lying to us… _Isgar-Quenell_… A fucking failure at everything you put your stupid lazy mind to. Things will change here. I hope that you realise that. You will be parted at least from the whore. You may keep the medic. He's harmless as a bit of shit on the bottom of ya boot… stinking and annoying but not dangerous. You cant have the fucking whore. Go through the door at the rear of the room with your _medic_ and get kitted out. My decision to keep the three of you together has been officially revised. Samsaweel will be serving somewhere else.'

'Sir…' Floyd seemed to have lost all colour from his face. Bright red patches of annoyance or maybe anger were forming on his cheeks and a red angry heat was quickly rising up his neck, making his ears hot. 'He is my bondsman.'

'And you are mine.' The officer in charge replied. 'What is yours is mine. I do what I want with what is mine. The Samsaweel is mine.'

'He's trained… he's trained to serve me. I've spent a lot of time with him…'

'Too much time you fucking pervert! Get out of here! Take your stupid ugly human with you. I trust neither of you so begone before I decide that I've made a mistake putting you in the field. Go!'

'My bondsman.' Floyd put a hand out to Sam who was looking like someone had drained him of his blood, he was so pale. 'I…'

'If you don't get out now the creature will be killed before your damned eyes!'

Floyd stood his ground though. He didn't go through all this shit to lose Sam at this point. 'Legally I have a right to keep my bondsmen with me. They are my property. You cannot just demand that I hand them over to you.'

'You scare me Quenell. You scare me so much that it makes me want to blow my nose on you. Move your dirty carcass from my office and take your nasty medic with you.' He then smiled a big black and yellow toothed grin at Floyd. 'Or you can leave the medic and take your _weapon_.'

Floyd glanced at Sam who was now actually letting the whole team down by crying and wiping his snot on the sleeve of his mesh shirt. He gave Sam a small nod and then he turned to Spencer. 'Get with me.' He snapped.

And they walked through the door, leaving Sam behind with the officers in charge.

o-o-o

A few times over the course of what felt like months, Spencer had attempted to broach the subject of Sam. The first time was after they'd been given their equipment and told where to go to join the rest of the men. Spencer had needed to know what Floyd was going to do about it. 'Nothing.' Floyd had said. 'It's done. If he comes back to us then he will. I've made my peace.'

Made his peace? It had been less than an hour since and Floyd was trying to tell Spencer that he was over it? Spencer knew better than that. He tried to ask him once again…

'What do you think…'

'Is this about Sam?'

Spencer shook his head and shut up. He was now enclosed in a wooden box car type thing. It was the sort of thing you'd see goods or maybe livestock transported in. Today it was full of dull looking sweaty men, all of them in red jackets and black pants with heavy boots. They also all had the green insignia. Each man had been supplied with a week's worth of rations. They were told that's how long they would be travelling for. The actual reason they were travelling wasn't deemed to be important enough for them to know, or as Floyd thought… too important.

Floyd kept his hands off Spencer. He kept his mind off Sam. He cleaned the gun… a large thing almost like an automatic rifle, but it had a grenade launcher tucked under it and a bayonet stuck on the front of it. Once he'd cleaned it, he stripped it down again and cleaned it once more.

'What's with old Quenell?' One of the older men asked.

'You're calling him Quenell doesn't really lift his dampened spirits.' Spencer let him know. Reid tried to keep people away from Floyd. He tried to interject and disrupt any conversation which was directed at Floyd. He didn't want Floyd talking to these people. A talk about war or politics turned too quickly into bloodshed.

After day two the carriage which had no seats and so required that you sat on the dirty floor, stank of shit and urine. One of the men had attempted to open a door to the outside either to empty the slop bucket or to let in fresh air, but it had been locked from the outside.

When a full week had passed and the bucket was over flowing and spilling its contents on anyone who got close enough, men were shitting in any empty space they could find and pissing on the walls. There was no conversations about family left behind. There were no snap shots of loved ones passed around to smile at. These people had no one. They'd been dragged down here and here they were going to stay or die. They were the scum of the earth, the murderers, rapists, sexual perverts, thieves, suicides… all the things which you are told you'd go to hell for. Spencer attempted to place himself amongst them and decide the reason he was here, but the only thing he came back to constantly was the strange silent serial killing, cannibal, necrophiliac love god he was sitting with. He just wished Floyd would discuss Sam with him. _Spencer_ needed to talk about it even if Floyd didn't.

The next time Spencer tried to mention Sam they were standing in front of a thing called _Atros Bridge_. It was a long narrow shiny metal bridge which was suspended over a cavern of pointy teeth looking rocks. To Reid it felt like he was going to be walking into the mouth of a dinosaur or some hideous monster. Somehow it was raining, though Spencer knew that they were still underground … but yes, it was raining down in torrents and already Spencer's shoulders were wet through and his hair was dripping down his tired dirty face. 'Have you heard anything?' Spencer asked Floyd.

Floyd turned his head slowly to Spencer. 'I'll let you know if I did. You think I'd keep something like that from you?' His mouth was drawn down in an expression which was almost a sulk. 'He's alive. I dunno where.'

'In tact?'

'I dunno. I'd imagine that's doubtful.' Floyd put a hand on Spencer's elbow. 'And so we need to cross this motherfucker. Nothing compared to that…' He gestured some way behind himself and turned away from Spencer again.

Spencer pulled Floyd back to face him. 'I thought you had a plan. I thought…'

Floyd shook his head. 'I did. I really did, but it's not working out as I thought. Spencer…' Floyd looked around and seeing no one take much notice of them he leaned in and whispered in Spencer's ear. 'I want you so much. This is killing me.'

'If we are careful?'

Floyd moved back away from Spencer again. 'No, no… too risky. We cross the bridge.' Floyd turned back to the bridge and placed his hands over the front of his pants and let out a deep groan of frustration.

Crossing the bridge wasn't the main problem here. It was the group of rebels (as they were called for some unknown reason) on the other side. It was going to be a bloodbath. There were no two ways about it. The only way across to the damned rebels (Floyd kept meaning to ask what they were rebelling about.) was two abreast and that was insanity. Spencer and Floyd looked at the first group of young men rush across the bridge which was only about fifty foot across… fifty foot now of bodies which had been torn and blown apart by weapons fired by the other side. The only way they were going to get anywhere here was to hunker down and start long range fire. At this point Spencer didn't really have much to do. It seemed you were either alive and well or you were a pile of steaming parts. There were no twisted ankles or upset stomachs for Spencer to go running to. He hunkered down behind Floyd who had grabbed a young lad from somewhere and was taking cover behind him. Floyd rested the barrel of his gun on the lad's shoulder and started to pick off rebels. It was hopeless. He got perhaps five or six before the lad's head exploded and covered Floyd in brains and tiny bone fragments. He decided that pulling back was the best option here. So holding his head and crying out… 'Arh… I've been shot.' He grabbed Spencer and legged it. There was enough blood for it to look like a reasonable excuse to abandon his post. Spencer wiped some of the mess away from Floyd and wrapped bandages which weren't needed, around his head and then Floyd lay in the mud and groaned and moaned for three days, until the rebels had either pulled back or were all dead. Either way Floyd didn't care. This wasn't his battle.

The battle of the Bastion was the next time Spencer dared to speak of their missing… friend (?) Spencer wasn't sure if friend was the correct word, but he knew that he missed Sam dreadfully and he knew that for every tiny bit of feeling he had for Sam, Floyd's was a hundred fold.

They were kneeling in mud. A thick stinking foul mud which was likely more shit than pure wet earth. Spencer had caught a cold from somewhere and his nose was red and sore from constantly wiping it. Floyd had gone from being angry and pissed off with everything and everyone to being horribly quiet and submissive to every command. If he was called to do something, he just nodded, picked up his things, took Spencer by the elbow and walked to where he was told to go. There seemed to be no fire left inside of him and that was why today in a thunderstorm and soaked to the skin that Spencer mentioned Sam again.

'We should talk about it. I miss him too.' Spencer spoke the words as he wiped a blob of mud off the side of his face.

Floyd lifted a hand and touched Spencer lightly on the leg. 'It feels like someone has ripped out part of my… I don't know… not my soul, not my heart, maybe my reason for being.'

'I'm still here.' Spencer said. 'And we will find him.'

'We will? And how are we going to do that? We don't even know if he was kept with the unit. I don't know if he is even serving. For all we know he's out there playing _find the dick_ with that Syphilitic whore we met on the way in… maybe Sam's rotting away like that.'

Spencer didn't know what to say. He didn't know how to comfort. He wiped at his nose again and then Floyd spoke very quietly to Spencer. 'I said once that I loved you. And I must do or I'd not still be here. I'd be back at that fucking base dying to keep Sam with me and I had the choice… I could have left you there and brought Sam with me. So I'm telling you now, Babes… if you wipe your fucking nose on your sleeve again I'm going to knock your pretty white teeth out of your skull.' He moved slightly closer to Spencer and spoke in a whisper which was barely audible over the sound of the rain hammering down around them. 'Have you any idea what it's like to need to fuck someone so bad and know that if you do you would be risking that person's life?'

Spencer flicked his wet hair out of his face. 'Yes.' He replied. 'I know exactly how that feels and it's killing me.'

'You think you can be real quiet? I mean next time we are able to sleep… real damned quiet?'

'Absolutely.' Spencer tried a smile, but it didn't work.

'I just feel this fucking dreadful guilt. I've never felt this sick about something like this before. But I guess hell's not meant to be nice huh?'

'I guess not.' Reid sighed and pulled his medical bag over his shoulder a bit tighter.

'And if we are caught we will be strung up like Jimmy and Len.'

Spencer moved away from Floyd and nodded slowly.

Jimmy and Len had been a lesson to all of them. Whether they'd actually been caught doing something or not was unknown, but there seemed to be an awful lot of homophobia amongst the men. Or at least a very big fear of being caught. It was the old story… the ones who cry loudest are often the ones sinning the worst. However Jimmy and Len had been hauled before the officers accused of illegal and wanton sexual acts. They denied it.

'They don't look like fags.'

That was what was whispered around the camp and indeed they didn't. But then that's not all that unusual, especially when you know that any sign that you might be would get you into a small bit of trouble.

Jimmy and Len were accused and that was enough. The idea that anyone could accuse anyone sent shudders of fear amongst the men. One of the officers stood on a makeshift platform and made a small speech. 'The reason we don't allow women on the battlefield is because men will be lured in by their breasts and cunts. They will panic and worry if their beau is in danger or harmed. They will act irrationally. There will be no liaisons between men here for the same reasons. I really don't give a shit if you're a fag or not, but you _will_ keep your dicks to yourselves when serving under my command. These two stupid motherfuckers decided that they could give each other pleasure where it is denied to the rest of us. They will serve for you as a lesson in what happens if you don't follow my orders.'

They two men were hung. They had their genitals cut off whilst they were still wriggling and clawing at their necks trying to pull the rope away. They had their insides pulled onto the outside. Their hearts, livers, kidneys and other bits there thrown into the watching crowd where they were snatched up and eaten before the poor buggers (no pun intended) had even realised what had just happened to them. The bodies were left for the things which flew high above their heads. The following day they'd been picked clean. A few lumps of wobbly something laying in the dirt was all that was left.

Floyd didn't much fancy this being the way he ended his days and nor did Spencer. They kept their love making to simple and very occasional touching… just a hand on a shoulder, or a whisper in an ear… maybe a careless hand brushing against arse or somewhere hard and needy.

'I will demand him back.' Floyd muttered as they sat in the storm and listened to the gun and cannon fire. 'When we arrive wherever it is we're going… it feels as though we are going nowhere. What the fuck is the point in this? Has anyone ever actually asked what we're fighting for?'

'I would think they'd be questions which will never be answered.'

Floyd nodded. 'We want to risk being killed like Jimmy and Len?'

'Yes.' Spencer replied. 'Damnit yes…'

o-o-o

'SAM!'

He was crouched down behind a rock having a quick bit of personal relief on his own. He'd done with crying; it didn't help any. He'd tried going totally floppy and saying that he was paralyzed and that didn't work either. He'd tried saying that he was blind.

'You can see I am! Look at my eye!'

What had followed had been one of the most horrific times of his existence. They… the men… the tall big men with guns pressed to the side of Sam's head had shown Sam exactly what happens when you complain.

The fingers of one of the men… large rough fingers… Sam would remember it forever, those fingers appeared in front of Sam's face and so he squeezed his eyes closed. He felt it happening as though it was in slow motion. He screamed. Damn he screamed, but it made no difference. Those fingers slid up under Sam's eyelid… that eye which insisted on looking at his nose most of the day, and he felt the fingers sliding over the back of his eye. The pain of having your eye ripped out of your face isn't something which is easy to describe, but Sam still woke up screaming and thrashing around after nightmares which replayed it over and over again in his dreams. They didn't know what the fucking fuss was about. They'd packed it out and given him a patch and a dire warning that if he moans that something doesn't work right, it'll be removed.

They asked if he could see out of his other eye OK and Sam screamed the word… 'YES!' At them and then threw up and screamed and cried and made a remarkable amount of snot.

That all happened in the first day after Floyd had walked off and left him there. He'd had his lovely clothes taken from him and was in a clout much like the one the Steppen had been wearing. Sam was also given a lanyard with a long narrow pouch attached to it.

'You will deliver messages.'

The guy talking to Sam then picked up an eye off the plate sitting in front of him and placed it, along with the tendrils of tendon and blood vessels into his mouth and chewed. Sam didn't have to know if that was his own eye or not, it didn't matter, he still fainted like a maid onto the floor.

'You will deliver messages on the battlefield.' Sam was instructed. 'You will learn the layout of the land and you will learn who is who. If I give you a message to deliver you will do it at a run… and you will never fail me.'

'I'd have been quicker if I had both eyes.' Sam pointed out.

'You'd be slower with two broken legs?'

'I would be.'

'So you're going to avoid that?'

'Certainly.'

And so this was why Sam was being called. There was a message to deliver.

'Fuck. I hate my job.' Sam groaned and wiped his hands on his grubby knees. 'Fucking hate it!'


	47. Chapter 47

47

There was no actual night and day, just a constant wet dullness. It didn't seem to be bothering Floyd as much as it was Spencer, who had a brain which needed the lights to come on during the day and go out at night. The only way to tell what time it was was to listen to when the cannons and guns stopped firing. Both sides in this pointless fight seemed to respect the fact that they needed to restock occasionally and maybe even eat something. This was something which was becoming harder to do though. The only food supplied to the thousand upon thousand of men was bug ridden stuff which might have once been a type of hard gritty bread. The men supplemented their diet by eating the dead… or maybe eating the wounded if death wasn't coming fast enough. Spencer was hungry, wet, tired and the distance he had been keeping in his head was pulling in closer. His little partition walls he'd built up to keep what was going on behind a barrier he didn't have to look over were crumbling.

Floyd had been off scavenging. He usually came back with something edible, but this time a waterlogged Floyd shook his head. 'Unless you want to eat this?' He held out his hand which had a lump of something red and meaty sitting on it. 'Honestly I think the diet here is going to kill us before the hangman.'

Spencer glanced at the meat in Floyd's hand. He knew what it was from and though his brain was shouting out that he shouldn't touch it his stomach was screamed at him to eat it as quickly as he could. 'I've a few crackers.' Spencer pulled some wet crumbs out of his pocket. 'They'll do me.'

'I want to curl up behind you and…' Floyd started.

'I want that too. Eat the meat, you'll be needing the energy later.'

'It's not human.' Floyd held it out again. 'Someone caught one of the oppositions messenger boys. He was certainly not human… too many legs and not enough skin. Hairy thing.'

Spencer looked at Floyd's face and knew it was a lie. 'If I am captured by the other side, I want to be able to say in total honesty that I've not eaten any of them.' Spencer closed Floyd's fingers over the raw lump. 'There's going to be a hanging later. I heard word being passed around. Some deserters. We are expected to show up. Everyone will be expected to show up.' Spencer stuffed the crumbs into his mouth, sure that he saw something moving amongst them and not caring any more.

'Yeah, I heard. Five of them tried to get out by hiding in the back of a cart. But they stood no chance, Spencer. Half of the camp knew about it. Only took one person to report it. Just one.' Floyd gave a small shrug and began to nibble of the meat.

'That one person wasn't you.' Spencer made it a statement rather than a question. He didn't want Floyd to answer.

Floyd picked something out from between his teeth and spat into mud. 'Sometimes a man has to do shitty things to be able to move forwards.'

'And what did they give you in return for giving them names and times?'

'Spencer, they had nowhere to run to anyway. Why not cash in if there's information to be handed out? They would have gone out into the wastes and been hunted down, if the fuckers living out there didn't get them first. We have nowhere to run to. You understand that don't you? We cant go flying down the road with tears on our faces and tails between our legs and get succour from our loving families, because these people around us _are_ our family.'

Spencer let out a long sigh. 'They're not mine. They might be yours but these people will never be mine. They're the sort of people I spent most of my adult life hunting down and…'

'Well you fucked up and ran with a bad crowd and ended up here with me and Sam… so shut the whining and get over it. You're as bad as the rest of them. I'm pissed off with your idea that you're better than them.'

Reid started to walk away. 'They are distributing water. I'm going to see if they have some which doesn't look like it's just slightly filtered mud.' A hand grabbed at the back of his jacket bringing him to a stop.

'You're not being a judgemental prick are you?' Floyd hissed at Spencer's back. 'Because I'm not in the best of moods today and this fucking nonsense isn't helping.'

Spencer spun, almost slipping over in the mud as Floyd tried to keep him in place. 'I don't think that you running around telling stories on other people is helping much do you? Really _do_ you? You expect me to put my life at risk tonight when people are sleeping, but how the hell can I trust you when you do something as vile as selling people for a lump of meat. What's wrong with you? I thought you were meant to be one of the good guys. I thought you wanted out of all of this and for forgiveness. I just don't understand you anymore… no not _anymore_, I've never understood you, but any false front you used to put up and cozen me with has failed.'

Floyd stuffed his hands into his pockets and looked across the muddy landscape. 'Whatever. Go get your fucking water, I'm going to go watch a hanging. I'll be expected. You'll be expected, but I'll explain to them that you wanted a drink of fucking water.' He turned and walked away, squishing in the mud. Each time he lifted a foot out of the muck it made a lovely sucking noise. It was the closest Floyd was going to get to a sucking for a while now. There were times, like this that Spencer just did his head in. He was trying to keep them alive. Couldn't he see that? Sometimes you had to do shit to get shit. Floyd thought that Spencer should understand that by now. After a virtual lifetime of forcing Spencer to see things his way it seemed that he _still_ had a mind of his own. 'Arsehole.' Floyd muttered as he carried on walking to where he was going to watch what had earned him a decent meal for once. He was tired of old mouldy bread and wet crackers, even if Spencer wasn't.

There was a long queue to get a cup of brown gritty liquid they were tying to tell them was water _with added vits and stuff_. "stuff" being the operative word to describe it. Spencer didn't want it, he had cleaner water than this himself, packed in his medical bag, but it was an excuse to get away from Floyd for a while. He'd looked over his shoulder as he walked away and watched Floyd walk towards where the evening's entertainment was going to be. Spencer wanted no part of it. It made him feel sick to his stomach thinking that Floyd would sell people out like that.

'Medic.' Someone spoke to Spencer as he stood in the surprisingly orderly line of bedraggled men. Spencer turned slowly to look at the drawn sick face of someone he'd seen often. Too often for Spencer's liking.

'Mendez.' Spencer replied in greeting.

'I ache all over and cant stop shaking.' The man put out a dirty hand.

Spencer turned his back on the man who was covered in tattoos. 'I cant help you. I've done all I can.'

'The root. You have more of the root?'

Again Spencer turned towards the man. 'It's addictive. That's why you cant stop shaking. I wouldn't be doing my job if I kept handing it out to you. There are people who really need it. It's a pain killer.'

'And I'm in pain. Didn't I just say? You cant keep that stuff for you and your friend. You have to give it out to the sick and wounded. You don't want me to report you do you?'

It was now Spencer who slipped cold wet hands into his pockets. 'I'm a medic, not a drugs pusher. I cant give you more. I will explain that. Go and complain if that's what you feel like doing.'

Mendez grabbed Spencer by the collar of his fancy red jacket. 'I'm not talking about that. I know what you get up to with that fuck Quenell. I've seen the way you two are. I only have to nod in your direction and you will be dinner for twenty men at least. Now hand over that shit before I call _rape_.'

Spencer blinked at the man. 'I have no idea what you're talking about. I am Floyd's… Quenell's bondsman. That's all there is to it.'

'And you're going to risk that? I'm not the only one who's noticed the way you touch each other and look at each other. You fuck with your eyes and without even touching. Rumours… they're going to spread real fast if the medic wont give up his treasures.'

'No man can be accused of such things just because of the way they look at someone.' Spencer pulled his hands from his pockets though, and pulled open his medical bag. 'You cant blackmail me like this.' He pulled out a bit of the root the man was after and held it out for him.

'Looks like I can. Thank you doc. Thank you. I'll be seeing you again real soon.'

Spencer stood, letting other people lining up for water take his place. He needed to find Floyd and warn him. He needed to keep his distance from him, but tonight he was up on a promise, but now he dared not… yet he couldn't refuse Floyd now either. 'Crap.' Spencer muttered and walked back to the small area he'd been sitting earlier. The water forgotten… and a rough plan on now becoming a supplier of drugs to keep the rumours away. Floyd had been right. Sometimes you had to do things you didn't like or seemed wrong in order to keep yourself safe. That didn't mean that Spencer liked it or that he now wanted to go and watch a hanging.

Floyd though enjoyed his bit of early evening entertainment. The rain had stopped for a while and it was almost a party atmosphere. Had things been different he would have found a nice young arse and given himself double the pleasure, but all things of that nature were out of bounds. Instead he joined in the merry throng of men desperate for a bit of something and pleasured himself as he watched. There was nothing much better (apart from sex) than watching a hanging… the crying and the wriggling and the smells… The only thing which was slightly off putting was the young lad standing next to him with his manhood out jacking off like it was his last… and maybe it would be, but having to keep his eyes away from what that lad had in his hands and not make plans on how he was going to have him later was slightly ruining the happy event.

He kept an eye on him though. The lad was probably about sixteen… at least to look at. Actual ages didn't matter here. No one was their real age. There as a flair of zits up the side of his face and his hair was in stringy clumps. Floyd took a few steps back so he didn't have to see that profile and didn't have the temptation to look at that magical object being roughly massaged, but this person had a delightful arse too. The fabric of his pants was wet and stuck to a very neat and comfortable looking behind. Again Floyd ripped his eyes away and now watched the swinging deserters with one part of his mind and the way that lad was standing with the other part of his mind.

As the lad walked away, Floyd marked where he was going and followed slowly. Not so slowly that he'd miss where he was going though. Things like this were so much easier when you knew that every one was guilty of something and no one was a sweet innocent little thing. They wouldn't be here if they were.

Floyd followed him to a small outcropping of rock. There was a bit of an over hang and that's where this kid went to have a quick smoke out of the rain; even though the rain had for the most part stopped for now, the ground wasn't as muddy here. 'Here.' Floyd held up a light from his lighter.

The kid gave Floyd a careful glance and then nodded. 'Saw you at the hanging. 'Twas a good one.'

'I was distracted. Not that I mind. It was a nice distraction.'

'Yeah? Well entertainment is pretty thin on the ground around here. Anything out of the norm is good for the flagging spirit.'

'Indeed.'

They stood in silence for a while. When Floyd had finished his smoke he dropped the butt into the mud and turned to give the lad a better look. 'Flanders.' Floyd told him and put out his hand.

'Andrew.' A thing sallow skinned hand was placed in Floyd's.

It was the last thing Andrew did voluntarily. His arm was wrenched up behind his back… a small yelp left his mouth, but then Floyd's other hand was covering Andrew's nose and mouth. Floyd held him that way. The victim struggled and tried to get away, but this was Floyd's game, not Andrew's and he didn't stand much of a chance. Floyd felt that magical moment when conscience was lost and removed his hand at that point.

He broke Andrew's neck before he left, and gave him a long loving kiss goodbye. Spencer was back at their little camp… if a random place in the mud could be called a _camp_. Floyd was sated and happy. Spencer had a face like a long wet weekend… which Floyd guessed it was. He sat down next to Spencer and gave him a questioning look.

'Enjoy it?' Spencer snapped at Floyd.

'I did.' That answered all questions to what he'd been doing.

'There's a rumour going around about us. I thought you should know.'

Floyd looked bothered for a split second and then put on his relaxed face again. 'What kind of rumour?'

'The sort I can keep quiet if I supply certain people with drugs. They see the way we look at each other. We're being watched. Tonight…'

'Ah…' Floyd nodded. 'Then tonight we surprise them and do nothing. Easy. It's been long enough not to go a few more weeks and have nothing.'

Spencer's mouth hardened. His whole facial expression turned to something Floyd didn't see very often. Hate? Was that hate he was seeing on Spencer's face? 'If you are accused of something, Floyd, I will be too. I'm your bondsman. Everyone knows that. If you've been getting something somewhere else and putting me in danger…'

Floyd pulled out his small silver hip flask and handed it to Spencer. 'Have a drink for fuck's sake and calm down. I've not been getting anything elsewhere. You're fucking paranoid.'

'Do you promise?'

Floyd snatched the flask back before Spencer could drink any of his precious whiskey. 'I just fucking said, didn't I?'

'You're going to get us both killed.' Spencer hissed at Floyd. 'Firstly telling the officers about escape attempts…'

'Shut your mouth!' Floyd barked at Spencer. 'Keep your stupid fucking voice down.'

'Why? Why should I? Give you two more weeks at the very top and we'll both be the entertainment for the evening… and the following day's lunch. Why cant you just… I don't know… just tow the line.'

Floyd smirked at Spencer and leaned in very close… a bit too close suddenly for Spencer. 'We are in hell, Babes. Towing the line isn't something which comes natural to me. I gave the names and places of the deserters so that we'd have something to eat. That's how things are done here as you well know… at least you should by now if someone is trying to blackmail you into supplying them with dope and yes, if you really want to know, I saw something I liked the look of and I fucked it. It wont be talking about it. No need to concern your pretty self over it. Your skin is breaking out in spots. Have a nice personal little wank and use your man cream on your face. It's how Sam keeps his skin so nice. You should try it sometimes.'

'You…' Spencer snatched the flask back and sniffed at the contents. '…and where did you get whiskey?'

Floyd shrugged. 'You don't want to know… you're not interested in what I do to keep us both alive.'

'Is this payment for a life?' Spencer didn't drink any yet. He felt shaky and sick.

'I said that you don't want to know. Really, it's fine. No lives were lost in my search for comforts.'

'What did you do to get this?' Spencer waggled it under Floyd's nose.

'Prostituted myself. I let someone fuck me. One of the officers. That's not what I went there for. I went to find out if Sam was anywhere around and ended up on my knees being rammed. This was payment to keep my mouth shut about it. Happy now? You fucking happy?'

Spencer sipped on the drink and then drank back a large mouthful. It was wonderful. Absolutely fantastic! It warmed him through and took away that rattling feeling he'd been getting in his chest to go with his runny nose. 'And did you find anything out about Sam?'

Floyd shook his head. 'If he's here then that officer didn't know, or maybe just wasn't saying, but I've a supply source for little extras.'

'You'd do that again?'

'What did I say about having to do shit to get shit? Yes I'd do it again. Not my choice of occupation I have to admit. I don't like doing it, but it got me this and next time it might get me something better.'

'A noose around your stupid neck.' Spencer hissed. 'We've been staying apart because of the danger and you go off and get some from an officer? I'd hit you, but you're just not worth it.'

'I did it for _us_. You think I like having things shoved up my arse?'

Spencer said nothing. There really was nothing left to say. He wanted to storm off in a temper, but there was nowhere to storm too! He wanted to lunge at Floyd and shake him until he admitted that what he'd done was stupid. Insane.

'If you'd been a bit more compliant I might have got something from you occasionally, but you're all take and no give. Sometimes it's nice to have it the other way.' Floyd spoke very quietly and clipped. 'I'm a fag, in case that little matter had slipped your mind. I like it up the arse. It's actually good to be able to get something and know I'm safe.'

That really was enough. Spencer punched Floyd squarely in the mouth. He watched him stagger back in the mud, one hand clutching hold of the flask and the other flailing back trying to regain balance. Spencer moved in and punched him again in the face, sending Floyd onto his back with a huge splash of filth. The flask went flying from his hands and he just lay there looking shocked that Spencer had knocked him over and now seemed to be taking his flask and walking away. 'Hey! Hey! That's mine! I earned that!'

Spencer called back over his shoulder. 'So did I!' And he was disappearing into the lumps on the ground which were people trying to get some sleep before the fighting started again in the morning.

Floyd lay in the mud for a while. He expected Spencer to come running back to him, but he didn't. He wanted a drink from his flask and Spencer had taken it. He wanted Sam and didn't know where he was.

What Floyd wanted was to find out what they were meant to be fighting and find a way to finish it quickly. 'Motherfucker.' He muttered and put a hand to his mouth. There was blood. His teeth had cut his inner lip, but the actual punch wasn't what had done the damage. It was the outright stupidity of Spencer… the very idea that Spencer would hit him for going off playing his games… it was ridiculous. Spencer must be sick. That could be the only answer.

'I've been looking for you.' A deep rough, phlegm filled voice spoke. Floyd opened his eyes and looked up at someone in an officer's uniform. It wasn't an officer he recognised though. 'You're Isgar-Quenell?' The officer looked like he was hoping he'd found the wrong person as Floyd slowly got to his feet. He squelched horribly and dripped mud from every conceivable place. The uniform jacket was a dark brown slime covered mess.

'That's me.' Floyd finally said as he gave a very loose and not very smart salute. 'Is there something I can do for you?'

The officer grabbed Floyd by the elbow and led him slightly away from the dip in the ground Floyd had been laying in. It was quickly filling with gloopy water. 'I've information you might be interested in.'

Floyd nodded slowly. That was better than being told that Floyd was a sodomite and would hang before the morning. 'You are asking for payment? All I have is what I'm standing in and as you can see… I'm a tad muddy. And until I know what the information is about I cant even begin to make an offer. Someone nicked my silver hip flask, but I can get that back.'

'Samsaweel.' The man said then hawked and spat.

'You know where he is?' Floyd now turned and faced the officer. He wanted to reach out and grab hold of him and demand that he told him where his boy was. 'He's alive?'

The officer backed off slightly. 'Can you clean up?'

What sort of answer was that? 'Yes! Yes I expect so… a bit, not much. There's nowhere to wash really is there?'

'Get cleaned up and meet me up at command tent G. Bring your medic with you.'

Floyd turned and looked in the direction Spencer had gone. 'I need a medic? Sam's hurt?'

'Just do what you've been told to do. I need two reliable people for some sort of fucking escort duty. You know this Samsaweel person? Records say you arrived with him.'

'You need me to escort him?'

'Maybe. Depends on if you can get your arse up to command tent G within the hour… with less mud… and with that medic.'


	48. Chapter 48

48

Spencer heard the squelching of someone running in his direction. He'd clobbered Floyd and so had been expecting this since Floyd fell back into the mud. At least it would be a quick death. Spencer turned and looked at the shape coming out of the dim light. It was Floyd. Like there had ever been any doubt. Spencer stood and waited for him to pounce and tear his throat out, but Floyd just came to a wet halt and gave Spencer a _can we be friends _look.

'I know I went too far.' Floyd muttered. He thought he should say more but wasn't sure how to apologise for something he didn't really think was his fault. 'We need to get cleaned up and get up to some command tent.' Floyd then indicated the huge amount of mud caked to his clothing. 'You know where?'

Spencer shook his head and started to walk away again. He didn't quite know where he was walking to though. He seemed to be an outsider even to the people here who had originated from topside. Spencer would have liked the comfort to think it was because he wasn't a murderer or rapist, but that comfort just wasn't coming. He thought someone would leap on him and tear him apart for being different… if indeed he was different, but he was just overlooked, ignored, or treated like he was a lower life form. He wasn't even worth attacking. He only had a few old roots and some herbs. No one would risk jumping him for that. Especially as they knew who he hung around with.

'Where you going?' Floyd trotted next to Spencer. 'We've been given a job to do.'

Spencer ignored him. He'd at one time been terrified of Floyd. He wouldn't have dared raised a hand or even his voice to him, but now Floyd just took what was thrown at him. It was almost a role reversal and Spencer didn't like it. He wondered if Floyd had even noticed.

'Help me clean up.' Floyd was now rattling on about how muddy he was and how he thought he was getting trench rot.

'I'm not going with you. I'm staying here and I'm going to show people how cure their stuffy noses and I'm going to pull splinters. That's all I'm good for. If you want to go running off doing someone else's job, then go. You don't want me hanging around lowering your…'

'I _do_ want you hanging around. I actually demand that you do.'

'Do you know how close I am to hitting you again?'

Floyd held up thumb and finger and showed the tiny gap between. 'About that close I'd guess and if this was just something I wanted to do for fun then I'd go alone, because you sure are not much fun anymore. This though isn't for me.'

Spencer went off at a long strided walk again. 'It's always for you. Always. When do you really think of someone else before you mess around with their lives?'

'Can you just stand still for a second and let me talk to you?'

Spencer turned. People with bad skin, and guns slung over shoulders were standing around looking. It was a fairly obvious lovers' quarrel. The pair of them had quite reputation for squabbling about anything and everything, but they also had a reputation for eying each other up and touching when they thought no one was looking. There was always someone watching though. There was always someone willing to trade words for some food. 'Get it over with then. Tell me what's so important.' Spencer ground his teeth and his hands were in uncharacteristic fists at his sides. Floyd's arms were folded lightly over his chest. 'Sam' He muttered. 'Now you going to go off and sulk in a hole someplace or are you going to help me get sorted so I can go get Sam? We're both needed… soon… pretty fucking soon for some escort duty involving Sam. Does that interest you even slightly or are you going to abandon him again?'

Spencer's right hand clenched into a tighter fist. He'd never abandoned Sam! Never. That was Floyd's game not his. 'How dare you put that on me! I didn't abandon him! I saved his life more than once. I've… I've forgiven him for killing me! I've done what I can to protect him! How can you say that I've abandoned him? What is wrong with you? Can't you just once take responsibility for what you've done? You've messed my life up, you've ruined Sam's… you tried to get into Jack's life somehow… everyone you go near you… you… you spoil! You're like something which curdles milk.'

'Don't know what you're muttering on about now, but we really need to get cleaned up… and for your information you'd have been dead by now and just laying there rotting under the ground awaiting the great whatever the fuck it is you'd be waiting for. I've saved you!'

'Saved? You call this saved? I am in hell! Haven't you noticed that? Can't you see where we are? We are walking in circles in mud in hell. We are rotting from the outside and eventually we'll just be bones, but we'll still be here firing guns at The Bastion! Do you even know what that place is? Do you know what we are fighting for? Do you actually know anything? And maybe I'd have liked to have risked rotting and waiting for something better than this! Because I'm not all that impressed!'

'Of course I know what that place is!' Floyd roared at Spencer.

Spencer took a deep breath and grabbed Floyd's hand. He no longer cared who saw what he was doing. A death via the hangman's noose was better than this living… literal hell. 'Then tell me what is going on.'

'Not here.' Floyd gestured at their audience. 'Firstly we get cleaned up. Then if you insist I'll tell you what I know, but it's not much. I'll tell you as we go and find whatever it is we need to do with Sam.'

Spencer squeezed water out of his jacket and then scraped mud off Floyd's. He wasn't doing this for Floyd though. This was for Sam. If and only _if_ Floyd was telling the truth about that! Spencer had doubts. All this time they'd been sitting in this stinking mud trying to avoid looking at each other with too much longing and Floyd had hardly mentioned Sam. It seemed odd that this had suddenly turned up when Floyd needed something to pull Spencer back on side. Floyd seemed to have a slight spring in his step and Spencer walked at his side in moody silence. He'd not go as far as to say he was sulking, but it was pretty close.

'Tell me what you know of The Bastion.' Spencer asked.

'Firstly tell me what _you_ know. I don't want to have to say what you already know.'

Spencer put out his hand towards Floyd. 'I need a smoke.'

'Then ask for one. Stop fucking ordering me around. Who the hell do you think you are?'

'A very pissed off boyfriend. Give me a smoke.' The one Floyd had just put between his own lips was passed on to Spencer who took it and dragged on it as though he was the worlds oldest chain smoker. 'I know that it's an impenetrable fortress. I know it's not been raining there. They seem to have electric lighting, judging by the steady white glow every time we have a cease fire. We've been firing cannons and guns and as far as I can tell have not injured one person or dented one stone. They however seem to be killing us with no problem.'

Floyd nodded and lit up a fresh smoke for himself. 'OK.' Then he walked on again in silence.

Spencer jogged up next to him. 'You said you'd tell me what you know.'

'I did. Right… it is an impenetrable and mysterious fortress which stands in the way.'

'And?'

'And that's all I know.' Floyd then called out to a guard who actually seemed to have a bit of life left in him. 'Command tent G?' They were pointed in the direction they were already going.

Sam sat in miserable silence. He had an apple in his hands and had been nibbling on it slowly. It was sour and under ripe and he really didn't want it, but it was a reward for being so reliable. Wonderful. It was going to give him the shits and stomach cramps, but he dared not refuse it. He knew that they had something _special_ to do. Some wondrous mission to go on and he really didn't want to go. He'd tried excuses like… 'But I'm half blind!' but they offered to make him wholly blind if he didn't shut up and eat his apple. Sam was cold and wet. His nose was totally blocked and no amount of picking it would relieve the discomfort. He got his finger right up to the second knuckle but hadn't been able to reach the crusty lump blocking his airways. He therefore had been breathing through his mouth and that in turn had given him a sore throat and a headache. His face hurt as his sinuses slowly filled with much and his only eye watered constantly. Sam was in a world of misery and he barely looked up when two men were escorted into the tent. He couldn't see much in the dim light and his watery eye fogged everything over anyway.

Men were forever coming into the command tent and being sent off to do jobs. This was nothing special. It was the voice he recognised rather than what he was seeing. 'Reporting as requested.' The accent did it. It was unmistakable. Sam looked up again and rubbed at his eye and grinned. It was Floyd!

'Oh my fucking god!' Sam leapt to his feet. It would have been a lovely reunion if they'd been able to welcome each other in the way they both… or at least Sam… wanted to. The fact that Floyd had left him behind was forgotten. He didn't care any more… Floyd had come back for him! He wanted to run into Floyd's arms and wrap his lets around him and kiss his face all over, but he didn't. He dropped the apple and just stood staring at Floyd who only gave him one quick glance and then looked away again.

'Isgar-Quenell and Dr Reid?' The man behind the desk asked.

'In person.' Floyd saluted and dropped to one knee. Spencer just stood and stared at Sam. If Floyd hadn't noticed and Spencer was sure that he had, Spencer could clearly see the mess Sam was in. He was thin… much too thin with his ribs which were standing out horribly even in this dull light… and his skin was covered in bruises and infected cuts. There was the obvious eye patch which Spencer didn't know if was to cover another infection or because Sam was lacking an eye. He hoped the former but suspected the latter. Sam had a nasty wet looking scab to the side of his mouth and his hands were red and raw… Spencer couldn't see Sam's feet as they were covered in mud caked bandages of some kind.

Floyd had noted the mess Sam was in though and probably quicker and with more accuracy than Spencer had. Floyd had noted the smell… the smell which all junkies carried with them. A deathly needy stench, which he himself carried with him most of the time as did Spencer on occasion. With Sam though the stink was coming off him in deep dark waves. Whatever it was they'd been giving him was rotting Sam from the inside out.

'That is our most reliable messenger.' It was a captain who was talking to Floyd, he knew by the badge on his head which had the word _Captain_ written across it in marker pen. 'We don't want him killed before he delivers his message. You are his bondsman?'

Floyd snorted a derisive sound and Spencer let out a small laugh. 'No sir, he is actually my bondsman. He is sworn to be loyal to me.'

'And you to him?' The officer who looked mostly human, but just a bit too big, like he'd been inflated by a bike pump when he was a baby or something. His skin was too red and tight and his eyes slightly too far apart. He also had a finger missing from each hand. Almost human… not quite human. And he had a smell of burnt sugar about him too… which for Floyd was an obvious sign that the man had been around demons for far too long.

'And me to him.' Floyd concurred. 'The three of us are bonded. The good doc here carries the mark if you wish to check it.'

The man with a head far too large to go which a stomach which was far too large, shook his head. 'No… I have it all here.' He tapped the computer monitor. 'Don't you love progress?'

Floyd smiled a small half smile. 'Gotta adore progress, Sir. Absolutely.'

He motioned for Sam to come over and join them. Sam, like Spencer didn't go down on one knee. He stood next to Floyd and did a little jig as though he was bursting to go and relieve his bladder. 'Are you ready?' The Captain asked Sam.

'I am ready and waiting to perform my service.' It sounded to Spencer and Floyd as though it was a small answer which was learnt by rote. Sam then pulled the lanyard off over his head and passed it over to the Captain. Again it was noted by Spencer and Floyd how much Sam's hands were shaking. He'd be no good as a bowman now. The watched the Captain slide a bit of paper into the pouch hanging from the lanyard and then it was handed back to Sam.

'I will deliver this to the best of my service and I thank you for the trust you put in me.' Yet another automated response.

'I'll tell you why you've three been chosen. It's been noted that Samsaweel here is a very reliable messenger. He's never once let us down. He has a reputation for being one of the fastest around. He has an excellent recall for codes and for locations and seems to always know where someone is if a message is needed to be sent. We discussed it for a while and it was decided that this time Sam would deliver the message. It was also decided that he would have an escort.' The Captain leaned over his desk and looked closely at the three of them. 'Isgar-Quenell, the word is that you are lazy and you shirk your duty. You've only been seen on the front line once and that once you held a child in front of you as a shield. You have faked sickness and injury and you have misplaced your weapon. Is there a reason I should trust you to keep Sam safe?' Before he could reply he turned to Spencer. 'The medic. Ah… yes. You too I have heard about. You don't actually do much but administer cold remedies and trim toe nails… what use are you on the battle field? The pair of you are known to have lovers' eyes for each other, but I don't want excuses. I don't really give a damn if you've been fucking each other. What I care about is that you will keep Sam alive. The first messenger I sent didn't get as far as the enemy lines. Our own men shot his head off thinking he was one of them… fucking arseholes. Wouldn't be surprised is that was you, Quenell. The only reason I know it wasn't you was because you don't have a fucking gun! The second lad we sent, well we sent guards too, but they fell on the boy and ate him. They then deserted.'

'Sir?' Sam moaned.

'Well, I know these two wont kill you or eat you… you'll be safe with them. Quenell traded his gun for a sexual encounter, which I would be very annoyed about if I didn't think you were more dangerous to our side than the enemy. Doc… now I have reports that you are selling drugs to the men for non-medicinal purposes. Can you see that I don't really want either of you two cocksucking faggots around? I also would rather put you to some use than hang you… But I think that's going to be up to you two. Can I trust you two to keep Sam alive.' Again he gave no room for answer. 'Sam, do you trust these two to keep you safe and return you.'

'Aye sir, but I'm feeling… you know?'

'I know… You'll get your payment… what is it with whores and low dogs? You all want arse and drugs. I don't understand this.' He looked now at Spencer. 'You're from topside, you tell me, why do your people feel the need to take drugs when they know it's going to screw them up?'

'To take away the pain of having to live. It dulls the senses and removes those things causing you pain for a short while. The problem with it is that it becomes too addictive, so even when the events causing the need are gone, the need is now the drug. It forces people to get money the quickest and easiest way possible, as regular work is usually or often not an option. Prostitution is seen by many as a quick and easy solution.'

'Isgar-Quenell… what is your drug of choice?'

'Sir…' Floyd slowly got back to his feet. '… about anything on offer, but I like my herbal stuff best. Less side effects.'

'Well… enough of that. I suppose you want to know where you're going. Sam, you will deliver that message to the commander of The Bastion. You will need to wait for a reply and then you will return.'

'They say that the occupiers of The Bastion roast my kind on a spit and eat them for lunch. They say that they commit horrendous tortures on anyone they capture. They crush them under rocks to get information out of them. They bleed them slowly and drink their blood.'

'Then it's lucky that you have these two fine specimens to keep you alive then isn't it? Now you may leave. Go and hurry back. I will expect you to return by this time tomorrow even if you have to drag your half roasted arses back to give me the reply.' He then handed Sam a small clear bottle of something, which Sam drank quickly and without hesitation. 'Hurry. You'll have to run and don't lose that damned message.'

The three of them gave small salutes, turned and left.

'Well fuck me!' Floyd laughed. 'Finally I have my boys back together.'

Sam and Spencer both frowned at Floyd who still hadn't shown any real delight in seeing Sam again.


	49. Chapter 49

49

The Bastion stood on a ridge, actually on a small hill on a ridge. It was a walled fortress. Massive high walls with even higher turrets surrounded a large keep. As none of them had ever been inside the walls of the place they had no idea what else was there. No one had ever got close enough – and returned again to give out that sort of information. Squatting around the edges off the outer wall was an encampment. Tents in gaudy colours with small flags waggling in a breeze which couldn't be felt down in the mud where the enemy stood. Although rumours liked to pass around in the mud that it never rained in The Bastion, now the three of them were a bit closer they could see the lush grass and they could hear a _thump thump thump_ of music coming from somewhere.

They were all three of them ignoring questions which were there in their mouths just waiting to be spat out. Floyd's unbelievable lethargy had over taken now and any questions he'd had there were falling back again. He _had_ wanted to know what the drink was that The Captain gave Sam before they left. He _had_ wanted to know what had happened to his face, where he'd been, had they treated him all right, could he ram his arse nice and hard? All these things were forgotten as he stood and stared up the slope they were going to have to walk up. 'It never rains on The Bastion.' Floyd muttered.

Spencer also would have liked to have known what it was Sam had drunk and what had happened to his eye. He wanted to find who had done this to Sam and seek out some kind of revenge. He wanted to pull Sam close and promise he'd never abandon him again. He wanted to tell him that he should have insisted that he stayed so that Sam could have gone with Floyd.

Sam looked up at The Bastion. His whole body was buzzing as though he'd been charged with some sort of super power. He thought maybe he could just run and run and when he was close, leap over the twenty foot or so high walls in on enormous bound… But his thoughts were distracted when Spencer suddenly threw himself on his knees in front of Sam.

'I am so sorry.' He moaned as his placed his hands on the not so muddy ground. 'I beg your forgiveness.' It sounded to Sam as though Spencer was about to burst into tears… It might have done to Floyd also, had he been taking any notice of what was going on. 'I just want you to know that I would do anything, I mean anything, to protect you. I should have stood up for you and offered my blood for you. Please, Sam – please forgive me.'

Sam raised an eyebrow and glanced at Floyd who was still just staring up at The Bastion. 'Yeah OK… forgiven. Can we get on and do our job now?'

Floyd now seemed to be taking a small bit of interest in what was going on. 'How long does that drug work for?' Sam told him that it usually started wearing off after a full day of work and a full rest period. Floyd nodded and sighed. 'And what are the side effects when it starts to wear off?'

'Shaking, vomiting, pain… I get a lot of pain in my feet. I can hardly walk some days it's so bad – I find it hard to breathe and I've had a few seizures… why?'

Spencer looked up from where he was still kneeling. He had a sudden urge to kiss Sam's dirty bandaged feet. 'He's fine now.' Spencer pointed out.

'Yeah… he's fine now. Shall we keep going? We want to actually be there before they start to open fire again. Why the fuck they're not asking who we are is beyond me. This fucking shit is creeping me out. I just hope it's not what I think it is… cos if it is… Sam, that music, is that Black Sabbath?'

Sam cocked his head to one side slightly and then nodded. 'Paranoid – at least it sounds like that. What the fuck?'

'Well I guess we're going to find out. Spencer, you ready?'

Spencer slowly got up and turned to look at The Bastion. 'They wont let us out again.' He told his companions.

'You are assuming that they even let us in.' Floyd muttered as he watched Sam trotting off again. 'There's some crazy arsed shit going on here. It feels like I've been in a fog for the past year and suddenly the air is clearing.' He grabbed Spencer's hand and dragged him along. 'Come on, we're meant to be protecting Sam from something, though unless it's hearing damage from that fucking music, I don't know what it can be.'

As they walked further up the slope towards the hill The Bastion stood on they all noticed more and more people sitting around. Some were on things which looked like deck chairs you'd find at the sea side… hats on their heads, books on their laps, some even seemed to have glasses of drinks with fruit or something floating in it and fancy umbrellas sticking out of the liquid. It wasn't a typical battle field that much was certain to all of them. There even seemed to be children sitting around playing card and dice games.

'I don't get it. We fire cannons at them all day and they just sit there and have a party?' Spencer was staring at a man in a long green and yellow patchwork coat who was walking towards them and waving his arms. 'They don't seem to be armed. What have they been shooting at us with? What's going on?'

Floyd released Spencer's hand and clapped him on the shoulder. 'It's just another mystery.' But Floyd had a horrible idea he knew what it was. He stood silently and waited for the man to approach. Sam had wondered off at a tangent and was sitting on the grass with some kids who were playing with a deck of cards. Floyd could see that they were exchanging words, but couldn't hear what they were. Spencer and Floyd waited for the man, who obviously wanted to talk to them. Barring the way? Telling them to go back again. Spencer thought that was what he wanted. Floyd _knew _ it was.

'Hey and good eve.' The man was tall and lithe looking. The fancy coat he was wearing was unbuttoned but belted tight around his middle. Both Spencer and Floyd took in the athletic looking legs which peeped out from under the fabric of his coat. There was nothing on his feet, but his toenails were painted green… probably to match the bright colours of his coat. 'I knew you'd come eventually. We've been expecting you…' He looked at Spencer and gave him what appeared to be a sad smile and then at Floyd and the expression changed to one of deep pity. 'You know I'm going to have to ask you nicely to go back to where you dragged your sorry self from, don't you? Floyd? You like to be called Floyd these days. It sort of suits you. Spencer, you may carry on with your ward. He is a messenger. A sorry state he's in. I will offer him succour and read what he has to say, but you cannot have entry into the fortress.'

A weird trilling, buzzing sound was filling Floyd's head. It was like a thousand insects had suddenly gathered around his ears. 'I'd not have come if I'd known.' He dug at his ears with his fingertips.

Spencer thought that was a real apology Floyd was giving, but who was this man and why was Floyd not killing him for talking to him like that? 'We need to see the commander of The Bastion.' Spencer muttered.

'Ah… The Bastion… that's what you call it? Interesting. I wonder which fool came up with that name. Floyd, please turn and leave. I don't want to have to force you and you know I can and you know I will.'

Floyd gave a tight nod. 'Can I just see it?' He asked. 'Please.'

The man in the coloured coat gave a small laugh. 'No…' A shake of the head. 'You gave up all of that the day you did what you did. Now you will leave. Your whole presence spoils the land. Look to your feet Floyd. Even the grass is dying under your feet. You're poison to us.'

'I'll request that I can wait here for…'

'Request denied. Leave or you will be made to leave and I'm sure that you don't want all your little secrets to be spilt into young Spencer's ears. You'd really not want that.'

Floyd pointed over his shoulder. 'They'll kill me if I return without Sam.'

The green and yellow shoulders of the man in the coat did a shrug. 'You made your choices. Go to hell Isgar-Quenell.'

Spencer watched Floyd take a step back… he thought that he could actually see fear on Floyd's face. 'If I could just explain.'

But the man had stopped listening and when Spencer turned to look he could see that the people who had seemed to be relaxing were now standing… and oddly all pointing in Floyd's direction. The only person moving was Sam who was legging it back to Spencer's side like something had just set him afire.

The buzzing noise in Floyd's head increased to a point that he could feel his eyes bulging in their sockets. Sticky red tears seeped from the corners, his nose started to pour with thick dark red blood and a popping crackling feeling started as his ears began to bleed. 'Stop it!' He howled at the man in the coat. 'For fuck's sake stop it! I'll go! I didn't know what this place was until I arrived… just let me leave!'

'See how far he has fallen!' The man's voice hailed outwards like he was using a microphone of some kind. Sam and Spencer both looked around to see where the voice was coming from. 'The sinner returns, yet he is still unrepentant! He thinks we will give him leave of what he's done.'

'NO!' The pointing crowd cried as one.

'Repent!' The man spoke softly, but the voice was so loud that Floyd thought his head was going to explode.

He managed somehow to shake his head. 'I've not sinned.'

'LIAR!' The crowd cried again.

'You cant do this! I have a right to speak my case!' But Floyd was backing off with his hands over his ears trying to cut out the sounds both inside and outside of his head.

'You had your chance!' Once again it was the crowd speaking as one.

Sam slipped his hand into Spencer's. 'What the fuck?'

Spencer didn't answer. He had no answer to give Sam. 'He's being… turned?'

'They're exorcising Floyd?' Sam's mouth gaped open. 'They cant!'

'I have no other explanation. I'm very willing to hear yours if you have a better one?'

'They're going to kill him.' Sam spoke almost with some kind of reverence to his voice. 'My god… they're expelling him and he cant do anything about it! Who are these people?'

'I don't know, but the reason we've been trying to kill them for so long makes a bit more sense now.'

'Sure as hell does.' Sam wanted to whisper, but his words came out as a shrieking wail as he watched Floyd turn and run… 'He's running. Mother of fuck… Floyd's running away. For my life I never thought I'd see that. We are going to die, Spence. They're going to feed us to the pigs. Oh my fucking god. What…?'

The two of them watched Floyd turn and run. It was a stumbling zigzag of a run back down the slope and then Sam broke out into his own stumbling run down the slope in the direction Floyd had gone.

'STOP!' The word spiked through Sam's head like someone had thrown a javelin at the back of his head. It poleaxed him and he fell onto the grass and with a scream started to roll, flailing out, all dirty arms and grass stained legs.

'Go get him.' The coat man instructed and a dozen people lowered fingers which had been pointed at Floyd and went running down the slope to recover Sam.

Spencer stood stunned next to the man in the brightly coloured coat. 'Can you tell me what's going on?'

A hand grabbed at Spencer's elbow. 'There are people on topside who we keep an eye on. They're special people, Spencer. Not just because they do wonderful things but sometimes just because they are wonderful people. I don't like it when someone pours a bucket of crap over the people I'm watching. It will be all right now. Floyd is trapped in his own little hell. You are perfectly recoverable. Come with me. The others will bring Sam along.'

'No… I'm Floyd's bondsman. I have to stay with him. I should go back with him.'

It was that pitying look that Spencer got from the man's ageless face. 'You may leave whenever you want to, but I would very much like to show you something first. If you will but trust me? Please?'

'No… really no.' He turned to look at Sam who was clutching tightly at the thing around his neck, but being held up by two of the picnickers. 'I should take Sam back with me.'

'I will rephrase what I just said. I'm sorry that you misunderstood me. You _will_ come and you _will_ see what I want to show you. That beast has made you dependant upon him. It doesn't have to be that way. I can release you from the bond. I can give you back what he took from you. As I said, you are recoverable. You need to come with me though.' He turned to the ones holding a white faced Sam… 'Bring him. Take the message and take everything he can use to harm… including his other eye if he continues to cause trouble. Lock him below. I'll speak to him later. Have him prepared for questioning.' Sam did a couple of wriggles to try to get away but they had a firm hold and Sam too was bleeding heavily from his nose and ears.

Spencer turned to watch Floyd racing away into the distance and Spencer was sure that he could see what looked to be some kind of phantom clinging to Floyd's back… 'I'll listen to what you have to say, but I'm not abandoning Sam or Floyd.' Spencer wanted to suck his words back in again and reorganise them into a different order… one which put Floyd before Sam. It was said now though, and he didn't think it had gone un-noticed by this person in his swanky, gaudy coat.

o-o-o

Once inside the huge walls, Spencer could see that this place was as clean as Disney Land. There was no rubbish, no vile smells… nothing out of place. The glass in the windows was clean and sparkled in what seemed to be daylight – real daylight – but he knew that they were underground and so it was just another illusion. For all he knew the whole place was an illusion. Maybe another test. Spencer watched them drag Sam away into a small dark looking building with a grey slate roof. There were windows and those windows had bars on them. He wanted desperately to go and pull Sam away from them and do what he'd always said he would, and put his life before Sam's… at least that's what he _thought_ he had always said he'd do… it was confusing him now… the loud rock music was not so obvious inside the walls, but it was still there pounding out its tunes… most of them Spencer didn't recognise. He'd never been a great fan of rock music.

There was a tower… a square keep which had rows of windows going up ten floors… at least that was Spencer's quick guess. There was light flowing from every window as though there was something holy and wonderful inside which would burn out Spencer's eyes if he dared go in there.

'Don't be afraid.' The man said calmly. 'I'm going to save you. That's what you want isn't it? To be saved from the monster who had you bound.' The man nodded his own answer.

'And if I don't want to be saved?'

There was that look of pity once again. It wasn't a look which Spencer found all that comforting. 'Of course you want to be. I can see right into your soul. I can see what has been sitting there rotting since you were a child. Isgar… or Floyd as you like to call him.' They were standing now in front of the open doors of the keep. 'Shall I tell you something amusing? I'm sure you'll appreciate this as I know how well you know that beast. Since he was thrown out not one new creation has had that name. It's a cursed name. Does that give you some feeling as to how reviled he is?'

'You don't know him as well as I do.' Spencer snapped.

'I'm going to show you something and then you can tell me what you think. I don't need you to explain to me about the beast. I know what he is. I have eyes.' The man gestured at Spencer's eyes with two of his fingers from his left hand. 'You should open yours, Spencer. Now… come with me.'

'Will Sam…'

'No more questions about Sam… he's a tiny little bit of Isgar. He's nothing. He's really nothing but an information source. But I'll tell you now that if he doesn't give us the information we want or if he gives us cause to kill him, then it's over for him. No more regenerations or rebirths for that creature. I think in the end he will choose the right path to take.' He patted Spencer on the shoulder and with the other hand passed him a pair of dark glasses. 'Might need these. Don't want you're brain frying now do we?'

Whatever it was causing the bright light didn't just effect Spencer's vision. The almost completely blacked out lenses saved him from that, but it tore through his head like a bolt of lightening. Reid clutched at the side of his head as his knees unhinged, forcing him to slam down to his knees with a jarring crunch which made him snap his teeth together. He let out a cry of pain as something seemed to enter his head and force its way around. 'Make it stop!' He growled out between his clenched teeth.

'It will stop once you relax and see the truth, but first you have to open your eyes and see it for yourself.'

'I cant! You're killing me! Stop this!'

'It's your own guilt causing the pain. Every single deed you did, all those little wrongs being put to right. It wont kill you, Spencer; it will free you from the beast.'

With his eyes screwed shut behind the dark glasses, Reid slowly got back to his feet. The agony was unbelievable but he wasn't going to go down begging. 'And if I don't want to be free from him? If I love him? If those deeds were done because I wanted to do them and not because I'd been coerced? You cant just rip my memories from my head. You have to give me a choice.'

A hand rested on Spencer's shoulder. A hard hand, gripping tightly. 'But you have been coerced. You've been groomed and modelled into what the beast wanted. Not what you were going to be. Allow me to show you.'

Spencer placed a hand over the one on his shoulder. 'He's not a beast. He's the man I will willingly spend the rest of my life with. I didn't do anything I didn't want to do. Nothing in my life happened because he forced me to do it.'

He felt that he was walking forwards, the hand slowly pushing him. Something touched the back of his legs making him jump in surprise. It was a chair and he was told to sit… sit and relax. Like that was possible when it felt like you're brain was being mashed in your skull. He did lower himself down and then leaned forwards and put his head in his hands.

'Allow me to show you how your life could have turned out if Floyd hadn't interfered and ruined you.'

Spencer could feel the pain dying back slightly. The brightness behind the dark glasses and his closed eyes was ebbing and slowly drifting back making it slightly more bearable. When he opened one eye a crack he frowned and then opened the other eye. He was sitting in what appeared to be an old movie theatre. The seats were a worn old plush red… darkened and grimy around the edges. There were cigarette butts on the floor and empty drinks containers with coloured bendy straws sticking out of the plastic lids. He could see popcorn and he could smell cotton candy and dirt… sweat… and a deep musky aroma. The seats in the rows in front of him were empty, the screen at the front was a flickering grey as though the end of a reel had come and no one had bothered to change it. It was a familiar place. It was a place Floyd used to bring Spencer to watch old movies… age appropriate movies sometimes… usually not. Though how Floyd got Spencer in to watch soft gay porn at such an early age he didn't know. He'd never bothered asking and he thought he'd forgotten about this place. There were grunts and moans off to his right and little giggles and a smacking slurping sound of something off to his left.

'He first brought you here when you were twelve. A lot happened that year.' The voice of the man was coming from the row behind him. 'The first kiss, the pornography, the whispering of words… the breaking into your house in the middle of the night to lay with you on the bed… Oh I know that he said it was to comfort you; nightmares, we all know that, but that wasn't all he did was it?'

Spencer ran his sweaty hands over the arms of the chair he was sitting in. 'It was… I was… I was having a bad time. Things…'

'A lot of young men… pre-teen boys… they have problems. A sneaky hand on your backside or a mouth on your neck, though that's not what boys want.'

Reid swallowed and licked his lips. 'It wasn't like that. He never did anything he shouldn't. Never…'

'And you see this is the sad state of affairs that's resulted in some nasty little sodomite getting his hands on an innocent child. He corrupted you. You could have married and had children…'

Spencer turned to look at the man sitting behind him. 'You have made a mistake. Floyd didn't turn me gay, if that's what you're thinking. I would never have married. I would have been with an abusive partner. I would have ended up on drugs and alcohol to try to stop the empty feeling. Floyd protects me. He keeps me safe. He…'

'Don't you just want to see how it would have been? That nice girl across the street had eyes for you. There was a day, before the final time, that your mother was in hospital. A big white ambulance came and took her away and you stood at the front door and you cried. Not because your mother was going away because you knew she'd be back, but because you feared that would be you one day… so you turned from the street and went back into the house, leaving the front door open. Floyd was there. It was Floyd who had told you to call the ambulance that day. He comforted you. He took you in his arms and you cried on his shoulder until he told you to get on your knees and pay him back for the love he said he showed you. So there you were on your knees kissing Floyd's hot greedy pole when that sweet girl from across the street walked in. She'd seen you crying. She was worried. She'd called your name and got no answer and so just walked on in and saw you. You didn't see her though, but Floyd did. He looked at her and smiled and told you to take him all. She turned and walked out without a word. Sweet girl. A sweet girl who disappeared. Do you remember that? She disappeared that same week your mother was taken away. I don't know if you remember. Police asked questions. Door to door… the poor lass had just disappeared off the face of the earth never to be seen again; until your dinner time at least when Floyd served a good strong chilli he'd kindly made.'

'That's enough.' Spencer tried to stand but a hand rested on his shoulder again and kept him sitting.

'You need to know everything. Those times he disappeared for years… What was he doing? Who was he doing? Who was he ruining and raping and destroying. You need to understand that's all he does, and I like you Spencer. I want to be able to save you, but you need to see clearly what he's done to you. How he's removed all obstacles out of the way… slowly in some cases. Very quickly in others. He permitted you to get close to Gideon and then… well the man disappeared. He permitted you to get close to Hotchner, but again for his own reasons… Jack.'

This time Spencer managed to stand. 'Fine. I hear what you're saying, but I still wouldn't have my life any other way. How can I love him but not like the life he's given me? He showed me that being the way I am is nothing to be ashamed of. I would probably have killed myself had he not been around.'

'You killed yourself anyway, Spencer.' The man smiled. 'Now eat and drink and relax and think. You're not getting Floyd back, so that one thing you do need to consider. I can help you. I can steer you in the right direction. I can give you the life you would have had without Floyd and the precious part of it will be that you'll not even remember him! Think on it. I need to go and have a chat with Sam. I might be some time.'

o-o-o

Sam had been stripped of everything including the dirty bandages on his feet and his clout and was strung up with this back against a cold damp wall. His hands above his head in manacles and his feet chained to a couple of rings in the wall. There was a funny smell in the room; a smell of something very sweet and heady. It was a dungeon or an empty chamber apart from the large metal door which he'd been dragged through. They'd stripped him and left him. His screams and demands were ignored. They ignored him like someone would ignore the yapping of a young pup. When the door swung open and the man in the bright coat entered, Sam looked up gloomily.

'You had a message.' The man had dragged a chair in with him. He closed the door and placed the chair in front of it and sat. He was about ten foot away from Sam. 'I read it, of course.'

'I'm meant to return with a reply.' Sam tried to sound like the brave boy he was attempting to appear, but his voice wobbled and a tear crawled down his face.

'I don't think so. Not really. Do you know what the message said? Did you read it? No of course you didn't. You're just the messenger… not your place to read the messages is it? I'll tell you what it said though. "Abandon The Bastion or allow us to pass." That was it. That was the message in its entirety. I have a feeling that they know the answer all ready. Don't you think? So what I want from you, Sam is information. I want positions of their troops. I want to know how much ammo they have left. I want to know where the officers are based. I want to know where the food is coming from. Are they eating their own yet? Of course you don't have to tell me a thing, but if you do… oh the things I could offer you!' He held out his hand and a small light played over his palm. 'A soul…' The man said. 'I could even give you that; send you back topside as a real person. How does that sound?'

'Go fuck yourself. I'm not telling you shit.' Sam snapped… but that tiny light… oh that light sitting there on the hand… it could be his. 'If I tell you… it's not that I care about them because I really don't, but Floyd is there. I cant tell you stuff if it means Floyd'll get hurt.'

'So… silly boy, you _do_ know what I want to know?'

'I… no… just if I did then…'

The hand closed over the light and for a moment Sam could see it shining between his fingers and then it was gone. He let out a long deep groan. 'I can keep you here forever. Time means nothing as you well know. Back and forth like a pendulum. I could have sent you back at any time you wanted… imagine that if you will! A perfect young man… none of those old hang ups… none of those drugs filling your blood. It could have been good, but I think I will wait until tomorrow. I will wait until the pain starts, until you're shitting your life out of your backside and screaming in agony… I'll wait until then and then offer you what you wanted from the very beginning. Think about it. Floyd cant save you this time. He fucked up… and is that really a surprise? I could even save you _and_ Spencer! You could be together… brothers maybe? Friends? Straight friends… I will ensure that!'

'I'll tell you nothing!' And although that was shouted, it contained no conviction. 'Could you get my eye back for me?'

There was no answer to that. The man stood and left the room, taking his chair with him.


	50. Chapter 50

50

As Floyd lay in a ditch at the bottom of the ridge and tried to control his anger and bleeding, Spencer was given a ride in an elevator. It was the type which looked like a cage and it rattled and creaked its way upwards to the top of the keep where the man in the coat, who still hadn't introduced himself said he was going to show Spencer something so wonderful that the would have no problem agreeing to discard the beast they all knew as Floyd. Spencer thought that he'd be able to see what was on the upper floors of the keep, but beyond the bars of the clanking elevator there was just a blanket of darkness. It was almost as though existence didn't go beyond the bars of the cage they were riding in. When the elevator finally clanged to a stop and the man pulled open the doors a bright summer light floated through into the darkness. Spencer could see a blue sky with a few clouds and as he walked out, following the tour guide he was with, he could hear birds singing and that wonderful smell of a freshly watered woodland, the sometimes almost cloying scent of wet undergrowth and the perfume of nature. The man had walked to the edge of a wall which stood at around hip level. He indicated that Spencer should stand next to him and gestured outwards.

'What do you think?' The man asked.

Spencer could see trees for as far as he could see. There were no signs of human habitation. No roads, no smoke, no un-natural noises. In the far distance there was maybe the gentle sound of running water and maybe even a slight tinge of salty air coming from a coast.

'It's beautiful.' Spencer muttered. 'Vast...'

'Eternal.' The man said. 'It is our place to warden. Our place to keep as you see it. We cannot allow the beast to roam and despoil it. You surely understand that.'

Spencer shook his head and leaned forwards to take in more of the luscious air. 'Why would anyone want to spoil that?'

'You've had many chances to ask him. I don't know, but he will surely wander the earth for eternity trying to find peace which can only be found here. He was let loose. He was given free will and let loose to roam. And he abused it. He raped and…'

Now Spencer moved back away from the wall. 'Why are you showing me this? Why did you send Floyd away when you could have shown this to him?'

'I'm just showing you that no matter how wonderful or miraculous something is, it is in his nature to destroy it. He will lay his dirty hands on it and pollute it with what he wants and what he demands. It is what he's done to you. If I let him loose in that forest what do you think he would do to it? He'd eat the animals, destroy the plants, piss in the rivers and lakes. He'd pollute it, Spencer. If I brought him up here to show him what he's been missing his grief would be so much he would destroy himself and I don't want him dead, Spencer. I would far rather that he just suffered. He's not wanted by his own kind. He's not wanted by the people who sent you and Sam to me, he's not wanted by those topside. He's a beast. No one wants a beast.'

'I do.' Spencer muttered.

'No… you just think you do. I'm going to show you otherwise. Sit… sit and drink with me, have a smoke… I'll tell you some things which maybe you didn't know. You're not the first, Spencer and you'll not be the last. He's already getting Jack ready.'

Spencer walked back to the elevator and took hold of the door handle. He wanted to stomp back in again and go back… right back. He wanted to get Sam and leave. The mud and continual rain was better than this. A hand rested on his back and guided him back into the metal cage.

'I understand that it all seems too much. It _is_ a lot to take in. Maybe you need something else to encourage you decision.'

'There's no decision to make. I'm not going to turn my back on Floyd. Not for anything.'

The lights flickered slight and the elevator began to slowly go back down again. 'I just don't understand why an intelligent man like yourself who could have the world at his fingertips would want to be driven to his own self destruction by an animal who is despised by everyone. He has done a lot of damage to you. Far more than any of us thought. We maybe left it too long, but it's not too late. I think that deep down in side of you that there is that person screaming to get out. Don't you think so? The way of life which Floyd keeps thrusting upon you isn't the life you'd like to have is it? You want to settle down. Have a nice safe place to live. Your own life, friends, companions… Ah… and that reminds me…' The elevator stopped and the door was pulled open. They weren't back at the movie theatre Spencer had gone to so many times when he was younger; he was looking down a passageway. The walls were painted bright white and the floor and ceiling had white tiles. It was the perfect place to carry sound and it was carrying the sound of someone screaming.

'Sam?' Spencer took a few quick steps forwards before the man stopped him.

'Oh be very careful, Spencer. Very careful. Sam is part Flanders as you well know. He is a nasty little creature whose life holds no worth. I know that you've sworn to defend the chap, but something's are maybe left… forgotten. Sam has yet to make his own decisions. Perhaps they will meld with your own, or you might go in opposite directions, so please have a care when you see him and _seeing_ will be all you get. It's not yet time to give Sam the comfort that you're here – thinking your _dirty_ thoughts.'

Spencer tore his arm out of the grip of the man. 'You're torturing him?'

'Not me personally… and it's not torture so much as… er… sculpting. We are attempting to make him see what it is he wants and ensure that he means what he says. He's a bit dishonest. An outright liar. Fragile… oh so fragile… they're being careful. I don't want him dead. He's no use to use dead… He's a lot of use to us alive though. Come on and I'll let you see through the small window. He wont know you're here though. I just need to see how far he will go before he caves in.'

'Who the hell are you? What is this place? Why are you doing this to us?'

'Who are we? We are the good guys! Have you never heard of the phrase… _To Put The Fear Of God In You_? I'm sure you have… he's worth fearing, or at least his minions are. What did you think, Spencer? That was sat around playing harps all day?'

'You're insane.' Spencer ran forwards now towards the metal door from behind which he could hear Sam screaming.

o-o-o

A blood smeared, muddy Floyd burst through the tent flaps and marched to the desk the bloated idiot was sitting behind. Floyd had planned exactly what he was going to do and say, but now he was back again there was that lethargy sliding over his mind again. He wiped angrily at the blood dripping from his nose and found that he was going down onto one knee.

'You returned with a reply?'

Floyd could hear that there was mocking laughter right behind those words. 'Why? Why send me there? You knew what would happen. You knew who they were. You knew that they'd send me back alone.'

The Captain smiled. His skin stretched almost to the point that Floyd thought it was going to split. 'You've seen this place. The mud, the disease… the way the men and falling upon each other and killing them for food. You've seen that our weapons can't penetrate The Bastion. Surely you know why it was you we chose. It was to amuse ourselves! We wanted to know how far you could get before you realised exactly where you were… so close! So fucking close! Could you smell the forest which lies behind the fortress? Could you smell the sea air and hear the birdies? Did it make you cry with frustration?'

'I came back intending to kill you.' Floyd sneered.

'Yet you're on your knees. Well… who's the big man now Isgar-Quenell? Are you having fun in hell? Did you think it was going to be an easy ride? Did you expect some form of power, to get your foot in the door and become indispensable to us? That was what you were thinking? Oh poor creature. You might have some clout up topside because you're a mean son of a bitch, but down here? Nope… you're nothing. You're a reject. You're untrustworthy… a bull buggering arse bandit and you know what? I don't much like you or have a use for you. You're a coward, Quenell. A nasty little man who preys on children and murders their parents if they get in the way. I watched you once… from the deep cold shadows… I wanted you murder the parents of two children and then I watched you as you masturbated as you watched one of the children sleeping. Dirty horrible nasty man, who could have done so many mean things for us, but give you one small thing to do and you mess it up. Totally mess it up. Every fucking time! Failure is the only area in life you don't fail in.'

'I'm still going to kill you.' Floyd tried to get to his feet but his knees seemed to be welded to the floor. 'Eventually, maybe not today, but I will. You cant keep me here forever.'

'No. Indeed we cant. And we already have plans in place. I just need word and you're gone. Word might take a while and in the meantime you're not going back out there to stick your rod up some poor fucks arse. You will remain right were you are… on your knees… with no dick in sight.'

'They are my bondsmen!'

'Look deeper Quenell… look deeper. I'll give you time to think about that claim.' The Captain stood. 'I think you're going to find that you are wrong. Have you any idea of the wonderful things they'll be offering Spencer and Sam? They will give them anything they want! Except you of course and once they both reject you… well… _pop_… say goodbye to your bond. Just imagine what they could offer Sam… he's so weak and selfish. He would sell his soul for a shiny stone.' The Captain paused and smirked at Floyd. 'Or he would very likely buy a soul, but what would he willingly give up in exchange? The friendship of the man who handed him over to the enemy? I wonder… worth contemplating isn't it?'

'You fuck! You fucking fuck! Motherfucking bastard!'

'Oh and such intelligent words.' He waved a hand towards Floyd. 'Silence.'

Floyd knelt there and listened to the barrage of cannon fire again. He listened to the screams of the injured and at the pattering of rain on the tent, but he couldn't move. His body seemed to have been locked into position. He couldn't talk… he could just about make sounds as he breathed but apart from that he was silent.

People came in and people received orders and then left again. On the third day it seemed to have become quite the game… Let's Spit On Quenell… there was also the other game… Let's Piss On Quenell… and Floyd plotted ways to kill them all. He muttered curses and threats but they couldn't be heard. He tried to think of some of the magical words Spencer had learned, but all of them had to be said aloud and Floyd was locked into an uncomplaining silence. His legs went into cramps, he puked a couple of times, his nose flooded with blood again, his head screamed and thumped with pain, his back ached, his fingers hurt and he was thirsty… But there he stayed kneeling in front of the desk… unmoving… some people even used him as a stool of rest weary feet on… they were going to die too. Floyd was going to somehow get out of this shitty place and come back with a tank and blow the bastards to pieces. It was that little plan which was floating around in his head when a whole week had gone by. He wanted to ask if Spencer and Sam had returned, if there was news, were they OK… but slowly his body went numb and his mind wandered and he could almost smell the destruction he was imagining in his head.

o-o-o

The door Spencer was now standing in front of was covered in mystical symbols. Spencer thought that they were actually protections of a kind, though why they'd want protection from Sam, Spencer didn't know. He pushed back the small metal plate which covered the tiny window and pressing his nose against the door he looked in. He only looked for a second or two then pulled back and spun on the man in the coat.

'Why are you doing this?'

What Spencer had seen was something hardly recognisable as Sam. It was the hair he knew and maybe the general shape of that battered, bloody thing hanging off the wall. The anger Spencer was feeling about matched the anger Floyd had felt at being forced away. It was a heat filled murderous anger. Had the man not taken both of Spencer's hands in his at that moment and squeezed them until Spencer thought he could hear the bones snapping, he would have tried to kill him.

'You are not understanding this situation, Spencer.'

'You are meant… this place! It's meant to be… Isn't God meant to be merciful? Doesn't he hate violence?'

'Oh you're talking about a different god, Spencer. This one will kill a whole world if he feels it's the right time. Have no doubts about that. There is very little mercy available. And I'm not a god… I'm just following orders… my orders are to recruit as many heads as I can. Much as Floyd's orders were to harvest as many souls as he could. Oh… don't look at me like that! How can you possibly still feel anything for that beast of a creature! He nailed your hands to a table and sat in the shadows and watched you. He drugged you to keep you under his control. He beat you almost to the point of death so that he could abuse you… he's a monster Spencer!'

'And what are you doing? Beating someone to the point of death so that he'll give you the secrets he knows? How different is that? How does that make you right and Floyd wrong? You're as bad as him! You're worse! At least Floyd knows he's a monster! You think this is right.'

Spencer looked back through the small window again and pressed his hands against the door.

'You can go in if you wish, but only on one condition… because this can stop. All of this can stop. You just have to put Flanders aside and both of you will be free to start a new life. I've even offered Sam his soul that he's so desperate to have. But I need you to do just that one thing for me first. I need you to see how much better your life would be without him.'

'So you torture one person and blackmail the other? You _know_ I cant stand here and let you do that to Sam. I cant…'

The man shrugged. 'It's your choice, Spencer. I'll not coerce you into anything you don't want. I'll not drug you or beat you… I'll even let you have friends, give you freedom, let you have time to consider what you really want in life, but nothing will ever take away that guilt that you allowed Sam to die because you're too hung up on someone who only drags you around with him because he is so empty and worthless he can think of nothing else… just his greedy cock… dribbling and twitching whenever it thinks it can get some of you. Disgusting man. Not a part of him has any worth… but Sam has a chance. He just wants a life which a mother who will wrap her arms around him and a father who wont beat him. He wants to be a normal kid who has gone to school and gotten good grades. You can help him achieve that. Give him a life. Let him have his soul… and I'll gladly give it, but he has to repent and you have to let go of Floyd.' The window was closed as Spencer stepped back. 'Dinner time. A barbeque on the side lawns tonight. Come with me. Let me show you how good life can be.'

'You will kill Sam if I don't agree to what you're asking?'

'Aye… that's about it.'

'And you don't think that this is a form or coercion?'

'Well maybe a little. Burgers or sausages?'

Spencer paced a while down the corridor and then back again to the door. 'Why would I want to party when Sam is in there looking like he's been run over by a train?'

'You want to save him? Give him the life he always wanted? One with no interference from Floyd?'

'I cant speak for Sam. I don't know what it is he wants. Let me go and talk to him. Please.'

'Ah… expecting mercy again? I thought I'd explained that. I cant show something I really don't feel. Sam is a slither of Floyd. My dislike for him is sort of automatic. Go ahead, talk to him. Get him to understand, but first you will tell me that you put Floyd aside.'

Spencer stood again with his hand on the door. He had a chance here to sort Sam out. Get him what he's always wanted… a normal life… to be a normal person, but not only that, Spencer didn't want Sam's head to be presented to him on a plate with the words _we told you so_… His own personal comfort compared to a life? That's nothing. Floyd would understand. Floyd would come looking for them and he'd understand. Spencer knew that much at least. 'OK, but first you have to know that I love Floyd. I will always love him. I will grieve for the loss, but I cant let you kill Sam because I have an emotional tie to someone. That someone will kill me for letting Sam die. At least he would if I was not already dead.'

The man laughed and the door swung open. 'Easier than I thought. You're a push over aren't you?'

'No… I'm not. As I said, I will love Floyd forever. There will never be another man I will want to spend my entire life with… never. If you think otherwise then you've not understood my personal needs very well.' Spencer turned to look at the man. 'I like being hit. I enjoy the pain. I feel safe when I know he has control. Maybe that's hard for you to understand, but that's how it is.' He then turned and walked into the room.

Spencer didn't hesitate longer. He strode over to Sam and wrapped his arms tightly around him. He could hear Sam's heavy wheezing breaths and smell the blood and fear. 'It's going to be all right.' Spencer whispered to Sam. 'I can sort this out.'

Sam had been hit in the face so hard that his jaw was broken and teeth had been smashed. He spoke but it was almost too quiet for Spencer to hear even though his ear was virtually pressed against Sam's mouth. 'They want me to renege on everything. They've offered me things, but Floyd will kill me.'

'We are already dead, Sam. Do what they're asking. I will help you. Floyd is able to look after himself for a while. He will track us down and find us when he's able. We cant go back to him. We cant stay here. They will destroy us both if we don't do what they want.'

'But that's giving in. How can you give in so easily? I want to be a fag. I want to whore and do drugs. I don't want what they're offering me. I want the soul.' He paused and took a long juddering breath. 'He showed it to me, Spence. He showed it me. I want that so bad. I don't want to die. Not again.'

'Then tell them so. I'll help you, but we have to do what they're asking and allow Floyd to find us.'

'Do you promise? He wont be angry?'

Spencer hated to lie to Sam, but the fear that Floyd would hurt him was far larger than the fear that these people would. 'I promise.' Spencer said.

'Very well. I'll put Floyd aside and hope to the gods that he understands why.'

Spencer held tighter onto Sam and hoped too that Floyd would understand. He needed Floyd in his life like he needed air to breathe.


End file.
